No Easy Way Out
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Frank Donovan finds his way to Miami, Florida to join an elite serial killer task force.  What he finds will change his life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Title****: No Easy Way Out**

**Author****: Ardeth Saunders**

**Rating****: M for language, violence, and sexual situations.**

**Summary****: Frank Donovan leaves the UC team in Chicago after a nasty divorce and begins a new career with a serial killer task force in Miami, Florida.**

**Genre****: Suspense, drama, and romance.**

**Disclaimer****: **_**UC: Undercover **_**belongs to the writers, creators, etc., of NBC. I do not own the character of Frank Donovan, I am only borrowing him for a few minutes. All other characters, the plot, and themes belong solely to the twisted imagination of the author. Please do not use any original concept without the express permission of the author.**

**A/N****: Some areas in Florida do not exist. The towns of Springville and Brandonville do not exist as far as the author is aware. There is no such resort as Favron. All other locations such as Chicago or Miami exist, but the author is unaware if Miami actually has a Spicer Avenue. **

**Chapter 1**

He stood over his latest victim. Up until four hours ago, she had been a model. Her chosen stage name was Aspen Greene. A slight bit pretentious, he thought, but since when were models _not _like that? He had made it a point to check into her background and he could understand why she chose such a goofy Hollywood name. Before the term 'super model' entered her vocabulary, she answered to the name Patsy Sue Greer. She didn't look like a Patsy. Tall, leggy, and busty with long black hair, Aspen actually fit her better. Still, her runway name made him want to gag. He glanced over at his partner. She had helped him dupe the girl. She didn't participate in any of the killings, but she surely liked to watch. He caught a gleam in her eye that usually precluded a wild night of sex. Before that, they had to prep the body, clean the crime scene, and hot foot it out of there.

* * *

Jack Ashcroft had been in the FBI since finishing law school. Currently, at thirty-seven, he had put in a fair amount of time. Ashcroft had worked dozens upon dozens of cases, so little could disturb him, to shake him to his very core. Today was bound to wreak him. He thought it was a good time to call upon some help. There was a serial killer working in Ashcroft's midst, within his entire goddamned sector for Christ's sake.

In so many weeks, bodies had shown up with peculiar things done to them. One was found with her hair shaven off her head, her locks placed almost lovingly into a gift box. Another was brutally raped. She had one finger missing from her left hand. Ashcroft later learned she was married and had a reputation of jumping from one illicit lover to the next. Two other bodies were found together at the same crime scene. If all assumptions were correct, they had also died together. Like the other victims, these two were also missing part of their anatomies. One ear had been carved off each of their heads. The killer had been dubbed The Souvenir Killer or TSK for short.

After being called to yet another TSK crime scene, Ashcroft did not know what to expect. Gathered neatly around the body, a local CSI unit worked diligently at collecting evidence, bagging the victim's hands, etc. Although all the crime scenes were disturbing, this somehow was worse. The victim seemed quite familiar to him. His heart locked up almost instantaneously. There was no mistaking the dark hair, so like his lover's. However, this once vibrant young woman was nothing more than a pitiful caricature of her former self. The killer had shaven off half her hair, taken her left hand ring finger, as well as an ear and an eye. This was pure TSK. Ashcroft had no clue as to why anyone would want to purposely hurt another human being. But this was so much more cruel.

His watch chirped at him noisily, distracting and annoying him at the same time. He was expected at a meeting in fifteen minutes with another FBI office, one associated with his good friend and colleague, Frank Donovan.

It had been a number of months since he had even seen Donovan. He was a member of an organized group of undercover agents or UCs that took the hardest of the hard cases. However, he was no longer based in Chicago and his elite UC squad had begun to dwindle. One of the UCs, Jake Shaw, had left to become a priest after the loss of his lover, another UC named Alex Cross. Her life had come to an unexpectedly tragic end. After discovering her pregnancy, she was diagnosed with cancer within days. She lost the pregnancy one week. Six weeks later, she succumbed to the disease eating away at her. Donovan was left with Cody Forrester and Monica Davis, but they departed soon after to pursue careers in different parts of the country. Donovan worked solely in conjunction with the Serial Killer Task Force. His brilliant mind was suited for the work. Their base of operations was in Miami, Florida. Ashcroft was sure it had been a rough transition, but at least Donovan seemed happier. Before the big move, Donovan's seventeen year marriage ended in divorce. Donovan had twin teenage sons who were studying abroad. Ashcroft would be happy to see his old friend again, but he wished it was under different circumstances.

* * *

It was another day, another task force morning meeting. Donovan and the junior members of the TSK task force gathered in the conference room. He looked around at those part of his 'new' team. It almost seemed wrong not to see Jake, Alex, Cody, and Monica. He heard from Cody and Monica frequently, but since Jake had given his life to God, he felt awkward and uneasy speaking to Donovan.

In Miami, Donovan had decided to work undercover himself, something he had done very rarely in Chicago. Before that could happen, however, lots of things had to change regarding his appearance. His hair had grown long, almost past his shoulders. The goatee he kept, but the gray had to go. His salt and pepper hair had given way to jet black. While at the office, he was required to wear his long locks tied back. It had been hard getting accustomed to it again. It had been several years since it had been like this.

He looked up as one last member of the squad entered. Lily Wells had only recently completed her doctorate in foreign languages and another in criminal justice. She came to the FBI from a local university where she had just begun teaching. Donovan hadn't known much about her when she was hired, just that she was clumsy, disorganized, but also sharp. He also found out that she was socially acquainted with his best friend, Jack Ashcroft, whom they were expecting at any time.

Although the newest face, Lily Wells was completely focused on her work. She could have had her choice of assignments, but the moment she was offered the chance to work with Frank Donovan, she couldn't say no. He was complicated, stiff, and demanding, but it was what he needed to be.

Lily thumped her heavy notebook onto the conference table. Her cheeks turned pink when several pieces of paper slid out, littering the pristine surface. She saw that Donovan had barely noticed her rather noisy entrance. He was focused on another plane of thought. She had been told that Donovan went into a zone before a serious case briefing. Today was no exception. He had two sides to his personality. Away from the office, he was an average every day type of man. He enjoyed social gatherings, often smiling. At work, he was all business. Despite his demeanor here, everyone could see he missed his sons terribly.

Donovan glanced at his watch. He was within minutes of grabbing his cell to find out what was holding up Ashcroft. Before he had the chance to do it, the double doors to the conference room swung open. Ashcroft sauntered into the room. At work, he was a staunch professional. So instead of bear hugging Donovan, he simply shook his hand. Also, Ashcroft figured it might appear rather strange to see two men hugging each other.

Ashcroft took a seat without being invited. He immediately reached for the water pitcher and poured himself a big glass. He knew he would need it. All of them had a lot of talking to do.

* * *

Rachel Sloane, an up and coming entertainment attorney, was irritated to her core. Her client and friend, Aspen Greene, was due in court today to testify on her own behalf. She was being sued for breach of contract with a company that hired her to be their new spokes model. Two days into the contract, Aspen walked. Rachel discovered that there was a huge loophole which would save Aspen's skinny ass. Rachel had told her repeatedly that it was imperative for her to be on time. Her testimony was needed so that Rachel could lasso in that loophole. She had tried Aspen's number dozens of times. Each number she dialed led to a voice mail or messaging service. If she wasn't strapped for time, she would have gone over to her apartment. As it was, she would barely have enough time to dig out her paperwork to present to court. She stood and tried to make up a creative excuse as to why Aspen wasn't on time.

_Next time I see you, I'm going to kick your ass_, Rachel thought. Later, she would eat those words. But for now, she had to go into a crowded court room and tell a cranky judge that her client could not be reached. What she wouldn't give for one of Jack's wisecracks right now. It would certainly ease her mind.

* * *

Donovan turned in his swivel chair to give Ashcroft room to brief them. He again couldn't help but think of his Chicago days, when it would be Monica or Cody giving them information. He told himself a thousand times to push that out of his mind. It was the past. This was his future, whether he liked it or not. He listened raptly as Ashcroft gave a synopsis of each murder. The longer he spoke, the more disturbing the details. It was something Donovan thought he might read in a book or see at a movie. It was odd how the killer chose almost high profile victims. Most serial murderers took the low road. Their victims were often faceless, nameless people. There were often patterns, of course, but it was why serial murderers were described as 'perfect strangers.' It made little sense the longer he listened to Ashcroft speak. It wasn't one of the most difficult cases they had ever faced, but it was close.

He watched as Lily took notes like a woman possessed. She had brought along a small laptop. She was one of those people who could type without disturbing the rest of the crew. Most people pounded on the keys of their machines as if they wanted to kill them. He gazed at her for a moment, realizing that she was odd man out. She might present a UC victim, if they found a solid pattern or developed a lead as to who was committing these murders.

While thinking that, he carefully examined the photos of the victims and noticed that they had a couple of similarities: long hair and perfectly manicured nails. Two of the victims were hopeful actresses. Another was on her way to becoming a supermodel. After that, though, the pattern broke off. One victim had just begun medical school. She was beautiful, long haired, and had perfect nails like the others, but she seemed to have no desire to join the world of fashion or any other type of wild life. Yet another was an English major with hopes of teaching high school some day. What was it that connected them to the others? There had to be something else, and he knew it was their job to figure it out.

Photo after photo was passed amongst them, along with a prospectus Ashcroft had prepared. He had invented thorough. Donovan skimmed the pages, taking mental notes here and there. Another feature stood out. They were all under the age of twenty-five, with the latest victim having just turned that age. He glanced at Lily again. She was Ashcroft's age, but could pass for ten years younger. Her hair was cropped short, but a wig could cure that.

"Next," Ashcroft said, "is our plan of action. Any suggestions?"

Donovan didn't wait for someone else to speak before he opened his mouth. "What do we do know about most of the victims?" When no one provided an answer, he continued, "Other than two students, most of them had an active night life. We can start by canvassing the area clubs the victims were known to visit."

Although he didn't say so immediately, Donovan had another 'eye in the sky,' so to speak. He was relatively friendly with a drug task force agent. They each shared information supplied by informants on various cases. If their perp was involved with any type of drug, he could provide a list of names to start with. It was the most logical way to go at this time. Serial murderers had been known to be involved with drugs or they used them to subdue their victims. Someone would have seen something somewhere. Miami was a large city, but it was also filled with snitches willing to do anything for less jail time. All they had left to do was decide who would be going where and as whom. Ah the beautiful life of an undercover agent.

* * *

Frank Donovan came prepared for his kick boxing lesson. He had seen his wife give birth, and he often wondered if this actually equated it. His trainer, Dylan Kramer, was no more than five feet five inches tall, but his body was corded with muscle. He was stout, fast, and had beaten Donovan's ass numerous times. In his mid-thirties, he had been a drug task force agent for ten years. He was slightly unorthodox in his appearance. His hair was shaven into a strange Mohawk, but it was long, well past his shoulders. He normally kept it braided into a pony tail, or at times in two pig tails. Other than his face or neck, he was covered in tattoos.

Here, Donovan was known only as Dominick. Almost constantly undercover, Dylan used his side business as a front to extract information. He was seen on the streets often enough not to raise suspicion. Every week, he actually held kick boxing events where many cops and criminals attended, often sitting side by side. With his knowledge of the street, the number of people he saw per day, Donovan would have easily trusted Dylan with his life.

After their sparring match, Donovan felt every year of his age. He could see that Dylan was bouncing and ready to go again. For a moment, he truly begrudged his friend. The two men showered and met at a bar next door. They ordered beers they knew they wouldn't touch. For a long time, they didn't speak about much that didn't have to do with Dylan's business or Dominick's side job of scoring dope. The banter went on for several moments before the two men felt comfortable enough to exchange the information they came for.

"Down here, Dom," Dylan began, "We don't see many supermodels."

Donovan met that comment with a sardonic smile. "No, I don't imagine you do. I figure you see some college kids, right? Making bets, maybe?"

Dylan fiddled with his beer and stared down at the pretzels set between them. He thought about eating a few, but then remembered how few people wash their hands after trips to the bathroom. Nine kinds of diseases awaited him in that bowl. "Sure, there's plenty of that going on. There are some chicks who come with their boyfriends. Most of them are frat guys."

"Do they ever scam you for dope," Donovan finally asked. It was the question burning to get out of him.

"Of course. They see the arena, the people, the guys who want to fight. One of your girls was a med student, wasn't she?"

Donovan's heart raced. As far as he knew, that specific piece of information hadn't been released yet. She was murdered before Aspen Greene. Her death overshadowed them all. "What if I said you were right?"

Dylan laughed. "Hard core all the way, huh? I'm not saying it was your girl, but there was one here a couple of weeks ago. She had a frat boy date, but I don't remember seeing her leave with him. She mainly hung out with another girl, who was tall, thin, and had long red hair. Honestly, it looked like she had on a wig."

Donovan's brow creased. The med student hung out with another girl wearing a wig. He rolled the information over and over in his brain. It disturbed him, but he couldn't put his finger on why. She wore a wig. Big deal. Many women wore them. "Do you think she knew the other girl?"

Dylan laughed before shaking his head. "I know what was churning inside your head, man." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure about that one. They appeared _familiar_ with each other, if that helps. What doesn't help is the fact that I can't tell you with certainty that she left with her, either. It was crazy here."

Donovan was disappointed, but wouldn't say so. Dylan's information led to what he needed at least nine out of ten times. The strange thing about these cases was that if females were involved with the crimes, they had ways of fitting in with other women without raising eyebrows. Dylan was sharp, but even he could miss something as subtle as that. He spent several moments going through different scenarios before deciding that further work needed to be done. He was almost ready to make a call to Lily.

"Yeah, I know how crazy it can get," Donovan said with a sardonic smile. "You know the drill, though. If you think you see her, put your speed dial to good use."

Dylan graced him with a brilliant smile. A cocky one. "You know it, dog."

* * *

Later, Donovan went back to the office, quickly shedding his "Dominick" persona, tying back his hair, and jumping into acceptable office attire. Bypassing the receptionist with her fistful of messages, he sauntered toward the group of offices that served the task force. Ashcroft was missing, likely following up on any leads he found, but Lily was in. She sat behind her desk, crazily typing away at her laptop. He often wondered how much work she was actually doing on that thing. From the way she stayed on it, it seemed as if she might be writing a novel.

At first, she didn't acknowledge Donovan's presence. She kept tapping away at her keyboard, stopping only long enough to correct any typing errors, or to scrutinize what she had written. It was amusing watching her, her brow creased studiously. He could probably watch this all day long. Alas, there was really no time for this. They had a case to work, but each of them took breaks any time they had the chance, even if it was to watch a junior agent at her laptop.

"Sorry to ignore you, Frank," she said, not taking her eyes from the screen once. "I'm typing up the case briefing from earlier. Jack asked for it. How did you do today?"

She spoke her words while studiously typing her project. For Ashcroft? Why would he ask another agent to type up their notes? Didn't they have a secretary for that? Donovan thought her talents would be wasted away like that. A juvenile thought crept into his mind. _Perhaps our little Lily has a crush on Ashcroft_? He opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when he saw her looking at him over the top of her screen.

"I know what you're thinking," she said simply.

_Oh, shit_. "You do," he asked smiling, gulping only a little.

"Yes. Jack not only asked about the case briefing notes, but also wanted me to put my own spin on it. In other words, Agent Donovan, I'm including a profile of the perp," she said smartly, without malice. "I know what you're thinking," she repeated. "If we were still in high school, it might be cute."

Donovan held up his hands. "Please, accept my apologies, Lily." Without waiting for an invitation to do so, he sat in one of the chairs parked closest to her desk. They were the most uncomfortable chairs ever created. What office chairs _weren't_ that way? He sometimes wondered if they were made to be that way, to keep everyone up and out of their offices. "I wanted to discuss something with you before Ashcroft gets back."

Primly, she shut her laptop and focused her eyes on him. They were a deep blue, the color of sapphires. Soulfully, she studied his face. "It must be something important if you don't want Jack in on it."

He smiled at her, matching her smirk. He wanted to remind her that _she_ was the one who had brought up high school behavior. "I didn't say I didn't want him in on it, Lily. I simply wanted to ensure you were willing to do what I'm about to ask."

She slid her laptop aside and folded her arms, almost draping them across the surface of her small desk. "Oh, now I'm intrigued. Do tell."

"I have an informant who mentioned that one of our victims frequented a bar with a friend near his business. He said they hung out there for a while and laid down some bets on a couple of boxing matches," he began.

He tried to read Lily, but she wasn't exactly receptive. Any time a person crossed their arms before them, it meant they weren't going to be cooperative or open to any new suggestions or ideas. Lily wasn't one he usually interrogated, but it would involve some danger. It meant the possibility of injury or death.

"I'm listening, Frank. Go on."

Donovan nodded and cleared his throat. Lily had caught him off guard. "I want you to decoy for us."

She nodded. "Okay." Without warning, she slid back from her desk and stood up. "Am I to be myself or are we going to create a nice character for me to play? I did some theatre in college."

She ended her last statement with a flirty bat of her eyelashes. It took Donovan aback. Perhaps he was hasty in making the decision to approach Lily. Did she think this was something to mock? He stood up as well. Facing her, he said, "Lily, I think you're taking this opportunity lightly. There is nothing light about this case. I hope you understand that."

She didn't appear to feel admonished. She walked around her desk, drawing herself closer to Donovan. "I understand, Frank. I'm not trying to make light of it. I expected that you would ask this of me. I'm in if Jack is."

"As soon as Ashcroft comes back, we'll meet with him and see where to go from here. We need to draw out the perp, and it seems he will only respond to female decoys."

"I know, but we need Jack's approval. We are, after all, a team."

_We are, after all, a team. _Those words haunted him, drove into his brain like a pneumatic drill. True, they _were_ a team, but not like the one he had in the past. When he left Chicago, he didn't want to go back to that mold. It still hurt, even after all this time. Without another word to Lily, Donovan turned away to the comfort and solace of his own office.

* * *

While Donovan and Lily were discussing her role in the new investigation, Ashcroft was in the midst of his own mission. He knew Aspen Greene was one of his lover's best friends. At this time, he didn't think she knew about her death yet. He wanted to be the one to tell her. He didn't want her to see it on the TV or hear about it on the radio. She had had court earlier this morning and he was not able to reach her up until a few minutes ago. He asked her to meet him at home and instructed her not to turn on the TV or radio until he spoke to her. The tone of his voice gave her enough cause to follow his instructions to the letter. Ashcroft was a good man to her, he loved her, and was a caring partner. Any time he asked her to do something of this caliber, she always followed through. Rachel Sloane was a good woman, and she deserved to be treated as such.

When Ashcroft eased his car into the driveway, he saw that Rachel's sensible hybrid was already parked neatly in her own slot. He put his vehicle in park and killed the engine. He waited for a minute before going inside. He dreaded this conversation, and yes, he was being a coward. He had faced all types of killers since joining the Bureau, had even had more than one life threatening injury. However, the task of telling Rachel that her friend had been brutally murdered scared him more than anything he had ever faced as an agent.

After waiting another minute or two, Ashcroft dragged his sorry ass out of his car and walked slowly to the front door. When he turned the knob, he was pleased that she had left it unlocked. Rachel might be a good woman, but she was a paranoid one as well. She never left a door unlocked, even if she was expecting him home at any minute. Today, though, she did. It made him wonder if she had a premonition of things to come. In a way, he hoped she had. He was scared. This was something he didn't want to tell her, even if he became angry if someone else did. He would gladly hand this duty over to the first person who wanted it.

As he entered the foyer, he could see a partial view of the living room. On one side of the hallway leading into the living room was a wall of portraits. Since Rachel was an entertainment lawyer, she kept a pictorial tribute to those who became her friends. There were several portraits gracing that wall. Of course, one of them depicted Aspen and Rachel together. Rachel had a good eye, and these were arranged almost ornately, if that was possible. He slid past the smiling faces of Aspen and Rachel to move further into the room. That was when he saw her.

Rachel sat in her favorite chair, one a man might salivate over. It was a huge overstuffed recliner made of leather that she refused to allow anyone to sit in, even guests. It was odd how attached she was to this item, but perhaps she liked it because it offered her comfort after a long day of defending spoiled celebrities. His heart lurched when he realized she was on her phone. Rachel was a true Blackberry [tm] nut. He completely forgot to tell her to stay off the phone as well. It wouldn't take long for her to find out that Aspen was no longer alive. After an intense moment of gazing at her, he realized she still didn't know about Aspen. Whatever she was reading or looking at, she was smiling. Rachel had two sisters. One lived in Salt Lake City who was a bit of a drama queen. Her other was in Omaha. The sister in Omaha had just had a baby. Perhaps she was looking at pictures of her new niece. If she was speaking to the other sibling, she surely wouldn't be smiling.

She finally noticed Ashcroft was in the room with her. With a smile, she set her phone aside and stood to greet him. Holding her, kissing her, felt like a lie. This wasn't another ordinary day or a mid-morning session of lovemaking. One more kiss to her forehead and he had to tell her. After another long embrace, he moved away from her to begin the process of telling her that Aspen was dead.

Before he had the chance to open his mouth, she groaned irritably and said, "The next time I see Aspen, I'm going to kill her. You won't believe what she did to me today."

Ashcroft swallowed a lump in his throat. "Baby, I know why Aspen ditched you today," he began.

She studied him for a moment. "Is that right? Did you see her today? She didn't have the common decency to even call…"

He didn't allow her to finish her thought. "Rachel, Aspen is dead."

It sounded harsh and cruel, but it was the only way to get it through to her as angry as she was. Her irritation crumbled from her face. Almost instantly, tears welled up in her eyes. Rachel did the expected. She balled up her fist, and punched his chest. The blow wasn't meant to be hurtful, only punishing. Beating the bearer of bad news, perhaps.

"You bastard," she cried. "You tell me like that?" She remembered uttering those same words to another man years ago.

She went to her chair and collapsed into it. He knew she wasn't truly angry at him, but at herself for stating that she was going to kill her friend. Slowly, he approached where she sat to kneel before her. Gently, he touched her leg. "I'm sorry, baby. But I had to get it through to you. I know how close you were to her, and I had no idea how to tell you."

She took her hands away from her face. Her dark blue eyes shone with tears that were yet not shed. At that moment, he thought that her eyes were like Lily's. It was an odd thought, but one that he couldn't chase out of his mind.

Rachel's make up was slightly mussed, but she didn't appear to care. She wiped beneath her eyes, smearing it more. Her already full lips were even puffier. When she cried or was stressed, she tended to bite them. She looked down into his handsome, earnest face. His dark brown eyes were focused on her face, nothing else. She loved that about him. He could calm her with one look. "How long have you known?"

"For a while," he said, answering simply.

She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her left hand. "How did it happen, Jack? If you're involved, I know it's bad," she whispered. Her voice had a husky tint to it normally, but when she cried, it was more pronounced.

_Should I tell her? Does she truly want to know? _Rachel wasn't a stupid woman. She knew what he did. He told her about many things. She was one of his closest confidantes. But this time, the crime in question had to do with one of her friends. "It's bad," he finally admitted.

A grim, horrid smile crossed her face and then she shook her head. "Jack, don't tell me it was that…guy…that souvenir fuck?"

He placed his hand on her knee and began to caress it, moving up toward her thigh before going back down again. "I wish I didn't have to, but it was. Aspen was…"

Rachel grasped his hand, held it tightly. "I don't want to hear the details."

When she began to move, he moved back slightly. He thought she wanted to stand, but soon he realized she only wanted to crumble against him. He held her shaking body for hours, trying to calm her fears, trying to calm his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ashcroft slid out of bed. After Rachel's completely understandable collapse, he carried her to bed and asked her to take something calming. He thought she had Xanax or Valium lurking about in her medicine cabinet for such emergencies. He stayed with her until she fell asleep. He didn't want to leave her, but knew it was time for him to get back to the office. He wanted to meet with Lily and Donovan to discuss their next step. When Rachel awoke, she would likely be very angry with him for leaving her. Since they were working to stop the person who killed Aspen, she might understand this time.

Half expecting Rachel to react, Ashcroft watched her unmoving body as he dressed for work. She didn't move the entire time he was getting ready. Good. She would sleep for a while and he might be back before she noticed he was gone. He left the house and managed to slip away without Rachel noticing. On the way back to work, Ashcroft knew they were bound to have a difficult road ahead of them. He saw unending days in his near future.

Ashcroft pulled into his assigned slot in the massive parking garage attached to their building. Both Donovan and Lily had slots close to his, and he noted their presence by glancing at each of their vehicles. He already wanted a strategy session in place. They couldn't risk another murder.

On any other day, he would take the back stairs from the parking garage. All employees were given access cards to various parts of the building. The UCs were granted blue passes. This usually meant they had their choice of entrances, depending on what types of cases they were working on. The most secure entrance, one that they normally used, was marked (ridiculously enough) with a pineapple sticker advertising some type of over processed fruit juice. Why on earth his superiors thought that was appropriate was beyond him. If he ever made it to a higher pay grade, that would be the first thing he would change. Today, however, he bypassed the stairs and instead chose the elevator specially reserved for blue employees. So impatient was he to get started on this case, that he had no time for stairs. The elevator would take him to the corridor leading to his, Donovan's, and Lily's offices. It was the shortest path. Otherwise, he would have to take three flights of stairs and walk down a long hallway they jokingly called 'the last mile.' It was no joke today. Today, he had to tell the woman he loved one of her best friends was dead.

The ride in the elevator was too short, achingly so. The piped in music playing was horrid…some song made popular by an accused child abuser. It was something he absolutely didn't want to hear. _Yet another thing I can change some day_, he thought. When the doors whooshed open, he stepped out and walked with purpose down the hall. Immediately, he could hear Lily's voice. It was more animated than usual. Was she in character speaking to an informant or just irritated? Surely she wasn't working on another case? The Souvenir case was priority. Upper brass said so. Any other UC office would have punished her for speaking so loudly. However, their brass had been a step ahead. Their corridor, offices, and hallway were sound proof, their walls ridiculously thick with reinforced concrete laced with titanium threads. Sometimes, they needed to get loud and obnoxious, especially dealing with the type of folks they had to work with on a daily basis.

As he drew closer, he was surprised to note that Lily wasn't speaking to an informant. Instead, she was discussing something with the receptionist. _Ah, no wonder her voice is so out of whack, _he thought_. _Ignoring her for the time being, he walked onward. He wanted to speak to them both, but since she was otherwise occupied, he went in search of Donovan.

His other team member was in his office, standing before his desk and seemingly reading through some paperwork. His door stood wide open, but he was in a zone at the moment. Ashcroft rapped lightly on the door frame. "Donovan," he called.

Donovan looked up, acknowledging Ashcroft in his usual manner, which was a slight shift of his eyebrows. "Where were you? We've been trying to reach you on your cell for a few hours now."

Ashcroft entered Donovan's office, closing the door behind him. He didn't want Lily overhearing this particular conversation. From the way she was speaking to the receptionist, she would be tied up for a bit. "Personal business," he answered simply.

His friend graced him with another twitch of the eyebrows. "Do you think we have time for that now?"

Same old Donovan. Leading and trying to follow at the same time. Hadn't he told his friend once that Rachel had close ties to a lot of celebrities? Hadn't Donovan mentioned at some point that a model looked particularly like Rachel? He thought the model in question was Aspen Greene. Donovan hadn't really met Rachel formally, but he had seen a few photos of her. What was even more odd was that Rachel had attended the same college as Donovan. They were separated by almost three years. Despite that, they both claimed they had never met. "Actually, we do. One of our girls was close with Rachel."

"Jack, I know we're friends, but do you think it's a good idea to discuss anything associated with this case to outside sources?"

Donovan had yet to fully meet his eyes. Once in a zone, a nuclear blast couldn't tear him away from it. Not only that, but Donovan did not trust attorneys of any kind. Long ago, he once aspired to be an attorney. He changed his mind along the way for reasons he would never discuss. It had something to do with his early days in the CIA. That part of his life would always be a mystery. Despite his distaste, Ashcroft couldn't help but feel somewhat offended. Rachel wasn't an agent, but she was far from an 'outside source.'

"I can trust her. She won't talk to anyone." When Donovan didn't respond, Ashcroft glanced out the side window of the door. He could almost make out the shape of Lily's body. She was still with the receptionist. Shifting gears, he asked, "What is going on with Lily? Why is she spending so much time with Abby?"

A ghost of a smile touched Donovan's lips. "Something to do with our network. When machines fail, she becomes frantic. Watching her, I often feel as if she's somehow related to an old friend of mine."

Their network was scrambled, highly secure. At times, the agency killed it if they thought hackers were messing about, or if their servers needed some type of repairs or upgrades to ensure it remained secure. It happened from time to time, but the down turns lasted a matter of minutes. Without the net, Lily was likely apeshit about it. She relied on their massive capabilities to hack and dig up information they desperately needed. Yes, Lily was a lot like Donovan's old friend, Cody. He could almost relate to Abby's misery right about now. It took Ashcroft's mind off matters at hand for about three seconds.

"My time alone with Rachel gave me time to think. I don't think we should let this sit and stew," he began. He watched for a reaction from Donovan. Again, there was little to none. He was still engrossed in the paperwork. His old friend had a way of listening without appearing to do so. "With the number of victims, the fact that we know their physical types, habits, and so forth, I think we need to send in a decoy."

At this, Donovan finally looked up. He gave Ashcroft a look that someone else might interpret as scorching. But it wasn't meant to be in this case. It was more along the lines of surprise. Had he read his mind? "Actually, Lily and I have had a chance to discuss that very thing ourselves. I think she would make an excellent decoy. She has already agreed to do it, but we thought it would be best to discuss it with you first."

Ashcroft laughed a trifle bitterly. "Thanks for informing me, partner," he said, a hint of sarcasm to his voice. "I'm surprised that Lily didn't already don a costume and ran into the streets."

Donovan assessed his friend for a long moment. They had begun to work together again a short amount of time and Ashcroft was already feeling short sheeted. Same old Ashcroft. He was trying to lead without feeling the need to follow. "Is something wrong, Jack?"

Two things alerted Ashcroft to a change in tone with this meeting. The first, of course, was Donovan's use of his first name. Donovan wouldn't call him 'Jack' unless he had bad news to pass along or if he was pissed. Second, Donovan's eyes softened. He wasn't in the zone any longer. He had reverted back to his friend. One who often accompanied him on wild, drunken nights out. How long in the past had that been? They weren't the fishing trip type of men, but yes, they had tied on a few many times.

Ashcroft sighed. "I don't mean to be defensive. It was tough today. I won't lie."

"I understand," Donovan said.

He did. Completely so. Although he didn't feel comfortable with the notion that one of their victims had ties to a team member, he could imagine the hell his girlfriend went through. He wouldn't have wanted to witness that exchange, even if someone held a gun to his temple. Donovan had spent much time sharing bad news with his ex-wife during their marriage. But nothing they faced together as a couple equaled what Ashcroft had had to share with Rachel earlier today.

Ashcroft was about to say something in response, but he was interrupted by an abrupt rapping on the door. Three swift knocks. Lily's signature. He moved away from the door, because Lily wasn't one to wait for an invitation to enter. As he predicted, within moments, in walked the third person in their five member team. The others, Hurtz and Lockwood, were more along the lines of foot soldiers. They would provide an elite type of surveillance once they sent in their decoy.

Lily came into Donovan's office and placed her hands on her hips. In mock agitation, she glared at Ashcroft. "There you are, Jackson," she said. "Where have you been? Frank and I have been trying to find you."

"Donovan has thoroughly chewed me out already, thank you very much," Ashcroft began. "I don't need it from you," he said, not unkindly.

Lily ran her hand through her short blonde locks before sighing deeply. "As they say in those idiotic teen movies…whatever." She moved toward one of the two visitor's chairs and sat down primly. "Is this serving as a strategy session? Perhaps we should page Jess and Heath first?"

Not exactly standing on ceremony, Ashcroft sat in the vacant chair. He noticed that Donovan had yet to sit. It was his baby, and Ashcroft supposed he had the 'official' floor. "Hurtz and Lockwood can be called as soon as we figure out what to do first."

Donovan nodded his agreement with Ashcroft. "There is a bar close to one of the locations where another victim was seen prior to her death. I think we should start there first."

"I know I'm a junior member and all, but what good will that do?" Lily's sapphire eyes met Donovan's. "Won't we be wasting our time?"

Donovan shook his head. "Not necessarily. Serial killers often return to the scene of their crimes, to watch the drama unfold around what they have done. I don't see us wasting our time looking out for suspicious people."

Lily watched Donovan closely. She knew about his kickboxing DEA agent friend. She knew he ran a business downtown that attracted the very element he was trying to bust. He had never told her about him, but in the agency, people heard things. And one of the things she heard was how Donovan had outside ties to the DEA. She wanted to say this aloud, to tell him that they shouldn't help the DEA with their busts, especially when they had busts of their own to make. Yet, something inside her told her to keep her mouth shut about that. She didn't want to jeopardize the other man's life or break a trust between him and Donovan.

Instead of saying what was truly on her mind, Lily said, "But Frank, we don't know what we're looking for. Sure we'll run into dozens of empty headed frat boys getting drunk or high. We really don't think it could be one of them?"

"The thing is, Lily," Ashcroft began, "It could be anyone, even a frat boy out to drink himself silly."

"What if our killer is a woman or if he has an accomplice who is a woman?"

Donovan's question made both Ashcroft and Lily look up at the same time. It was possible. Anything was possible. Yet, the victims were all women. Serial killers usually murdered victims who were the opposite sex of them. None of them had ever heard of a woman who killed women or vice versa. Still, there were killers who did have female accomplices. A serial killer duo? The thought was hard to comprehend. Serial killers normally left no witnesses behind. With a duo, there was always the chance that one would roll over on the other.

Donovan continued, "I have sources who told me about the victim before Aspen Greene. I was told that the med student was with another female the night she disappeared, one who appeared to be wearing a long red wig."

"It makes sense," Ashcroft said. "One to act as a diversion to draw the victims in? I don't know what we're facing this time if that is the case. We have a _duo_? I can't imagine."

"Neither can I," Lily said, punctuating her words with a soft whistle of commiseration. "I have finished the profile you asked for, Jack, but I'm going to need some extra time to add information regarding an accomplice."

Ashcroft looked at Lily somberly. "Get on it. I'll ask Abby to get Hurtz and Lockwood in for a briefing."

* * *

When night came upon the city, there was always a lot of activity in the lair of the Souvenir Killer. There was always something to do, murders to plan, and ways to stay several steps ahead of the authorities. It was easy to stay ahead. Very easy. However, it would take a very long time for anyone to catch up with the crimes or the criminals. The male portion of the duo answered simply to Lincoln. His partner, who was female as the FBI thought, was dubbed Holly. Lincoln named her several years ago when he met her. It sounded stupid, but fit her. Her smell reminded him of holly hocks. It was what attracted him to her, after all.

Their latest victim's face and name were all over the news. Lincoln and Holly had been responsible for several deaths, but Aspen Greene was, by far, a masterpiece in the making. Everyone was talking about her, talking about her death, and the crimes of the Souvenir Killer. It was what Lincoln wanted out of life. He wanted to receive notoriety for what he did. It made him want to go for another known victim. He liked hearing about it. He got a grand kick out of it.

Holly did as well, but she was more subdued about it. She didn't participate in the actual killing part much, but she liked watching the life ebb out of a person. It thrilled her in different ways. She often sat back and watched the women beg for their lives. They were all astounded that a killer like him would have a woman for a partner. They found no sympathy from Holly. Before long, she would often demand that Lincoln kill them. Poor girl. She was jealous. He assured her that he would truly love no one but her. And like most women, she believed it.

"I think we should get another name. What do you think?"

When Lincoln was watching the news, Holly knew not to disturb him unless he spoke first. She had learned that lesson early on. During the first year of their relationship, she had dared ask a question while he was watching the news. He took a razor and shaved off every hair on her head. She had had to wear a wig for months until it grew long enough. Yet, she stayed. She liked him, she liked what he did for kicks. She liked helping him.

Holly smiled brightly at Lincoln. "They surely draw more attention, don't they?"

He squeezed her knee. "You bet. No models, though. Something new."

For a long time, neither of them said anything. A commercial came on, interrupting the news fest. It was advertising a concert to be held soon in the city. It was a hot new singer with her face made up elaborately so that she looked like Cleopatra. She didn't need a wig to give her hair a jet black look. Her color was natural, her locks very long, almost to her back. Lincoln liked black hair, even if it was short. However, this girl intrigued him. She was talented, beautiful, and best of all, well known. Ah yes. Their next victim was destined to be Nona Pope.

"A singer," Lincoln whispered. "I'll make her sing."

* * *

It was almost midnight before Ashcroft saw home again. When he pulled up in the driveway, he noticed that there was a light on in the living room. He hadn't remembered turning it on when he left. That meant one thing. Rachel was awake. How much hell would she give him for leaving her? How much hell did he deserve for leaving her? Days worth. That's what.

With his hands buried deeply into his pants pockets, Ashcroft entered the house, slinked down the hallway, past the wall of photos, and into the living room. As he expected, Rachel was huddled in her recliner, a favorite throw blanket wrapped snugly around her. He noticed that she appeared to be reading something, perhaps a legal brief. The entertainment industry never slept.

"How are you feeling," Ashcroft asked as he glanced down at her.

Rachel looked up, removed her reading glasses, and caressed the bridge of her nose. She hated those damned granny lenses, but without them, she couldn't see shit. She took in his dogged appearance, his mussed shaggy brown hair, and the fact that his lips were pressed tightly into a line. She knew he normally wore three gold chains around his neck that meant everything to him. She could see a faint glint of them from under his shirt. They were gifts from his parents before they were killed long ago. His dark skin made them shine even brighter. She loved lying in bed with him, playing with those chains, marveling at how much more handsome they made him. They had been together for some time now and she had to admit that she fell in love with him almost the first time she saw him. He was much different than men from her past. Men she tried hard not to think about again, even if they drifted into her head from time to time.

She set aside the brief she had been perusing. "I'm okay. I woke and you weren't there. I almost felt a little pissed, but I knew you wouldn't have left if it wasn't important."

Rachel apparently knew his departure had something to do with the Souvenir Killer, but even if she wasn't going to give him shit about it, he was giving himself plenty. "Rachel, I want you to be careful…"

He was an expressive man. A friend of hers often said that since he was half-Italian, she should expect it. Rachel had waved off such a stereotypical image, but with Ashcroft, it was true. He had no trouble showing his feelings and he could often transfer what he was feeling in many ways, including waving his arms or raising his voice if he had to. He once told her it was more due to the fact that he wasn't a very tall or imposing man, and he had to learn to get his point across when faced with perpetrators who were taller than he. He took incredible care of himself, but he leaned heavily on his ability to emote. Right now, he was doing that very thing. She could see that in the tight line of his mouth, the way his dimples were overly standing out on his face.

"Jack, I never hung out with her circle of show biz friends. You know how she was with me or with us," she whispered urgently.

He nodded and absently ran his hand over the back of his head. Slowly, he approached where she sat and once again kneeled before her. "I know," he said. "She was herself, not this Aspen Greene person we came to know in the press." He placed a soft kiss on the side of her leg. It didn't help that she also possessed eyes the color of sapphires and had black hair. "Be that as it may, we don't know who TSK is going after next. What if the guy is someone you know? I didn't worry about this or even think of it until I saw his latest victim."

Ashcroft wasn't about to mention that they were mulling over the thought that TSK might have a female accomplice. It was too much information. Too much that she didn't need to know right now, if ever.

"I understand. I promise I'll be careful." She watched as he moved a few inches back, allowing her to get up if she wanted. She tossed the throw blanket aside. "Take me to bed, huh," she whispered huskily. "I don't want to think about this anymore tonight."

Ashcroft took her proffered hand. "Whatever you want. I'm here for you."

* * *

When the witching hour struck in another location across town, both Donovan and Lily were hanging back in the office, clearing up any stray paperwork or possible notes that could be found by any stray person who entered after hours. They could trust themselves and their team members, but anyone else was definitely out of the loop. Both noticed that Ashcroft had gotten himself together before leaving, clearing up any of his traces almost meticulously. Donovan halfway smiled when he heard Lily mutter the word 'anal' under her breath to describe Ashcroft. However, it sometimes paid to be anal in this business. He knew that he had been accused more than once of possessing that particular trait.

When everything was in order in the conference room and in his office, Donovan hung back to catch Lily before she left. It wasn't that she needed an escort out to the parking garage. They had plenty of security guards to take care of anyone who stayed behind. Their division pretty much had members working around the clock. Their team, in fact, was on call twenty-four hours while a killer lurked in the depths. He waited for another reason, one he didn't exactly understand at the moment. On a whim, he lagged behind.

Lily saw him ahead. A tall man (_a swarthy man_, she thought vaguely) with long hair, one with piercing dark eyes that burned into one's soul. Oddly, he seemed to be waiting for her. _Why on earth_? Well, she had an idea. A mutual friend of theirs told her that Donovan hadn't actually stepped out with a member of the opposite sex since his divorce. She had been unintentionally flirtatious this afternoon. But what the hell was she thinking? They were trying to nail a serial killer and they were getting all starry eyed and high school?

"Did I forget to put something away," she asked with a smirk.

"No, not that I can see," he said, smiling. "But I can go in behind you and check, if you'd like."

"Screw you," she replied smartly. "I think I've worked here long enough to know about hiding the paper trail."

"That you have," he agreed. "Where are you going from here?"

She opened her mouth to say, perhaps, that she was going home to hide the bodies. However, in this instance, it seemed horribly in bad taste. Instead, she said, "Just home, then bed. You?"

"I'm not particularly sleepy." Once in a 'zone,' he didn't sleep well. Cases like this always put him in one. He had never labeled it as a 'zone,' but remembered it was something almost every colleague he had ever worked with called it. "I thought about walking to Dobson's first."

Dobson's was one of the city's more eclectic eateries. They cooked meals from every cuisine line in the book. Whatever a person wanted, they would get. It was a place frequented by thousands of people a day. It was also a good place to be anonymous. No one could recognize a UC there. It was that busy, and well loved amongst their ilk.

"That actually sounds like a better idea than mine," she said. "Would you be ashamed to sit with me there?"

He laughed at the way she was dramatically batting her eyes. No one would make them there, no one had yet. "If you can sit with me, I think I can tolerate you."

She slung her backpack casually over her shoulder. "If that's the case, Donovan, let's hit it. I'm starved."

And this, friends, was how the UCs spent the first night of their official hunt. What they didn't know was that the city had eyes. The eyes were all them all. Trouble brewed in the clouds, more trouble than any of them would ever know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As soon as Donovan and Lily arrived at Dobson's, they noticed it was still crowded, even after midnight. They seated themselves at a table close to the back. This, of course, was not by choice. If they hadn't spotted the table, they probably would have had to wait for something to come available. Within minutes of their theft of the last table, their drink and food orders were taken. This left them with an awkward silence that they knew must be filled with _something_. Neither wanted talk to be of work, however.

Lily took the opportunity to really _look_ at Frank Donovan. This was something she hadn't done before. Well…not really. She hadn't known him until he came to Miami, of course, and she recalled that Ashcroft liked to tell stories of their days before she came to know him. She couldn't imagine what he had been like back then. He had photographs of his sons placed inconspicuously in his office. She saw one that depicted him with his sons when they were very young. It had obviously been taken before Miami. Other than the length of his hair, she figured he hadn't changed much. She was curious, but he didn't keep personal affects in the office for any length of time. Each time they took on a new case, Donovan always removed any photos. Although they were all in the business together, he was super paranoid about divulging too much about his personal life. She wondered how long it would take to crack through his barriers. Would he even allow her?

Donovan hid an inward grin when he saw Lily's eyes on him. He had a way of noticing when people were looking without alerting them. It helped to hone the skill in the business. He wasn't sure if he wanted to call this a date, but he had to admit it was one of his first in a long time, and definitely his first with a colleague. It was hard to think about it, though. Lily intrigued him with her short blonde hair, wide eyes, and sense of whimsy. It was hard to find these traits and characteristics in a woman. It was hard finding them in females who worked for the government, period. Although he would hate himself later, he wondered what Ashcroft would think if he knew they were out like this. He thought a thousand times that Lily was moony eyed and silly over him. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps she was trying to get his attention. It was a juvenile thought, but one that was hard to push out of his mind.

Before he decided to open his mouth and actually begin an adult conversation, Donovan couldn't help but scan the crowd. Again, they didn't know who they were looking for. Despite that, Donovan had a good eye. He could usually put his finger on a suspicious person before anyone else looked at them twice. However, it was hard picking through the massive crowd. Few people drew his attention. Could it have been due to Lily's presence or was he simply tired and ready to go to bed?

"Always on the case."

He turned slightly to focus his eyes on the speaker. It was Lily. _Leave it to her to break the ice_, he thought. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be preoccupied."

She smiled, feeling girly and giddy to have his eyes focused on her. She had to stifle the urge to giggle. _God help me_. "It's okay. We've only been off the clock for a little while."

Lily tipped her head slightly and smiled toward a couple she knew. She hoped fervently that they wouldn't insist on joining her and her 'friend.'

Donovan's eyes didn't follow as she greeted another couple. He watched her. It was almost fun seeing her squirm. What if he simply told her he was attracted to her and left it at that? Would that put her at ease or frighten her? He opened his mouth to say something, but the moment he did, their drinks arrived. He noticed that Lily grabbed hers and took a long swallow.

"Is this just weird or what," she finally asked. She caught a drop of her tequila sunrise just before it rolled down her chin. "I'm almost ready to call this quits."

Casually, Donovan took a sip of wine. He might have agreed with her if this had happened just a week ago. Not tonight. Without a thought, he reached across the table and took her hand. She jumped as if shocked, but she didn't back away. Her hand was cold in his. His warmed it.

"It's not _that_ weird, Lily," he said with a smile. "And I might feel rebuffed if you walk away."

His words touched her. His hand felt incredible holding hers. His skin was soft and warm. Stupidly enough, she almost started to cry. _Some FBI agent I am_. Rebuffed? Did that mean he was interested? _Hot damn_! "Well then, I suppose I'll stay where I am."

Donovan was about to answer her, perhaps to go as far as to lean in for a kiss, but he stopped. From the corner of his eye, he could see a small flat screen television. A flash of something caught his attention. He turned his head slightly and saw what drew his mind back into the zone. Long black hair. It was an advertisement. Unbeknownst to him, it was the same one that intrigued the Souvenir Killer. Yet, there was an exception. Holly and Lincoln saw a new victim to pursue. Donovan saw a young woman in peril. One who might join the ranks of Aspen Greene.

Lily suddenly understood the tone of the evening had changed. Her eyes followed Donovan's to the TV screen. She saw the elaborate make up and flash of black hair. She had heard of and saw Nona Pope before. She could have been Aspen Greene's sister. Suddenly, she understood why Donovan was studying the commercial so closely. They were looking at a woman who would make TSK salivate.

Their evening was over just before it truly began.

* * *

Ashcroft had barely gotten asleep when his office cell phone twittered noisily. Beside him, Rachel mumbled in her sleep, but did not come fully awake. It was normal to her now. They had been together long enough to know that living with an FBI agent meant their lives would be full of inconvenience.

He rolled over to the night table at his side of the bed. Struggling mightily as he was still half asleep, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open. "Ashcroft," he said shortly, his husky voice even more so thickened with sleep.

"It's Lily. I wouldn't have called you if this wasn't utterly important. Donovan and I think we have the next victim."

He came fully awake at that. Lily's voice was sharp, foreboding almost. Without thinking, he sat up on the side of the bed. He ignored Rachel's groan of protest. "_What_? Another body?"

His words brought more of a stir out of Rachel. She lifted herself up on one elbow. Instinctively, Ashcroft stood up and moved away from the bed. He loved his woman, but this was business. It was something he always tried to shield from her. Especially now, with her close friend as a victim. He went into the master bathroom, flicked on the light, and locked the door behind him. Their doors were heavy, made out of oak. They made excellent buffers.

"No," Lily said. "But we saw her. He's going after Nona Pope."

_We, how comfy_, he thought. If this were any other day, he might rib her about it. "How do you know this?"

"Don't you watch TV, Jack," she asked impatiently. "She's coming to Miami for a concert. She's similar to the other victims. She fits the MO almost perfectly. We thought it would be a good idea to notify you. Tomorrow, we're having a war session with the rest of the group. Donovan has already found a way to contact her people."

When she was upset or trying to update her colleagues, Lily tended to ramble and rattle on like a woman possessed. Ashcroft rubbed the bridge of his nose. He would likely have a headache by the time he was ready to get up in the morning. "Good idea. Thanks for calling Lily. I'll be in the office early so the two of you can brief me."

"Aye aye, Captain," she said smartly. "If you're not here by seven, Donovan will likely drag you out of bed. He wanted us to meet tonight, but I don't think our girl will be in trouble until she arrives in Miami."

Donovan's impatience was legendary. He had brought that along with him. It was a part of his personality that would always follow him no matter where he went. "Got it. I'll be there early, I promise."

Without another word, he snapped the phone closed. He was momentarily tempted to drop it into the toilet and flush it. He palmed the phone and unlocked the bathroom door. When he opened it, as expected, Rachel was standing at the door with her arms crossed. Her dark skin and black hair glowed in the dim light. She looked quite fetching in her royal blue silk robe. It was a gift from him last year. It was one of their more private gifts, as she never wore it unless they were together. He saw that she was chewing her bottom lip, working it over good.

"It's not what you think," he began.

"No murder?"

He didn't want to discuss it with her. It had nothing to do with the confidentiality linked to his work, but she needed nothing more to remind her that her friend had been slain. The information was something she should hear. Screw it all. He would tell her, damn it. "No," he answered simply. "I am not going out tonight. I'll be in early tomorrow and possibly off on the case for maybe a day or two."

She nodded, immediately understanding the nature of his job. "I understand," she said softly. "I'm doing something for Aspen. Not a legal thing, a personal thing. There will be some of her celebrity buddies around, I'm sure. I want you here for that."

He placed his hands on her shoulders, then slowly moved them down her arms until his hands grasped hers. "I don't know if that would be a good idea."

She shook her head. "I don't care. No one knows what you do. I don't talk about it. No one will ask questions."

"We'll see. Okay?" He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Let's go back to bed. We both have long days ahead of us."

* * *

It was barely light out when Ashcroft left to meet Donovan, Lily, and the junior members of their team. Little did he know, but a pair of eyes watched his every move. As soon as he saw Ashcroft leave the house, he slowly crept up to the door. He did so at a pace where he could take off in the other direction if Ashcroft came back. However, a thorough man was Jackson Ashcroft. It wasn't likely that he would leave anything behind. He simply hoped the other man wouldn't see his vehicle. He purposely parked several blocks away to prevent that very thing from happening.

He came up to the front door, but before he tried the knob, he turned to ensure that no one could see him. The neighborhood Rachel and Ashcroft called home was watchful, trendy, and aware of any person who didn't exactly belong. However, he had no trouble blending in. His home was a few miles away, but he looked as if he could have lived here if he wanted. In fact, he could move here at any time. He didn't for the simple fact that he wasn't one who wanted to complicate things.

His hand touched the door knob. It was locked tight. He expected this. Both Jackson Ashcroft and Rachel Sloane were leery of crime. Not only that, but the woman of the house had just lost her friend to violence. Even if the door had been unlocked, he would have rung the doorbell anyway. There was no way he would have broken in on her, not this early in the morning. He raised his index finger to ring the bell. Just as his finger was a mere centimeter away, the door opened wide.

The moment Rachel Sloane's eyes met his, she spat out an indignant curse and slapped his face hard. The smacking sound echoed in the quiet bedroom community around them. An elderly woman out walking her miniature poodle heard the commotion. She turned her head and called, "Miss Sloane? Is everything all right?"

Rachel looked around the tall man before her and smiled, "Everything is okay, Mrs. Peterson. I was startled by the paper boy and dropped my paper."

The tall gentleman standing before her mouthed the words 'paper boy?' in incredulous awe. How could she?

As soon as Mrs. Peterson and her poodle were out of sight, Rachel grabbed a handful of her guest's sensible white shirt and dragged him into the house. She slammed the door behind them, locking it up tightly as any good citizen would. She turned toward her guest and saw that he was rubbing his cheek, gazing at her reproachfully, perhaps tempted to slap her back in kind.

Angrily, she demanded, "Franklin Wilson Donovan, what the hell are you doing here?"

No one, including his mother, used his full name like this. Rachel was the only one. He bore his eyes into her. She had put a lot of pepper behind that slap of hers. She had spat out his name with venom dripping from every syllable. "About to slap the hell out of you, Rachel Iris Sloane," he said darkly, mockingly.

She began biting her lip, something she did regularly when stressed or upset. This morning, she was probably both. She hadn't seen Frank Donovan in several months. They each avoided functions where they would mix. She would beg them off and he would make excuses. She knew she would see him again since they both had dealings with a victim. But she didn't think it would be this soon.

"You still haven't told me why you're here," she said.

"As if I have forgotten," he countered. "Your blow to my face hasn't affected my memory as much as you would probably like."

"Unfortunately not." She walked past him and into the kitchen. "I know I'm wasting my breath, but Jack is gone."

"I know that," he said smartly. "Would you either come here or allow me come in there so we can talk?"

"You're an adult, Frank. You can do what you want. You do anyway."

He slowly approached the kitchen, his senses sharpened, just in case she was close enough to hit him with scolding hot coffee. When he entered, he saw that she had poured herself a cup of coffee and had taken it over to a small breakfast nook a few feet away. Without waiting for an invitation to do so, he went over to a series of cabinets near the coffee maker. Each section had hooks with mugs of various shapes hanging down. He selected one and poured himself a steaming mug of the aromatic brew. He didn't, however, join her. Staying a distance away, he drank thoughtfully, deeply.

No one in Miami, including Lily and Ashcroft, knew that Frank Donovan and Rachel Sloane had once been a pair of tempestuous lovers. They met in college when Rachel was a freshman, dated seriously for a while, but had a horrendous break up along the way. When Donovan left law school to join the CIA, they had had a huge fight. She hadn't wanted him to go, but he insisted. What made their fight even worse was when Donovan discovered that Rachel had been recruited for the CIA as well. Not to spite him, but for her skill with legal loopholes and languages. After a year and a close call with a drug runner who had ties to terrorists, Rachel left and continued her career in law.

They had loved each other very much. It took a long time for both of them to move past the break up. While in the CIA, Donovan met some trouble. Although Rachel was no longer part of the fold, he called her for help. She came running willingly enough. For a brief time, they reunited only to separate again after Donovan was nearly murdered in the line of duty by a gang member. He was working under at the time, infiltrating a loose terrorist cell. Somehow, his cover was blown. He was gunned down in front of Rachel. It was something she would never forget. She didn't know if she could have a relationship with an agent who might surely be murdered. That was what she told him, anyway. She had other reasons, good ones. He wouldn't learn this until much later.

She left, he was devastated, and quickly married the first girl he dated after her. When Donovan and his wife divorced, and he moved on to Miami, it was then that he discovered his old friend was seeing a beautiful young attorney. Donovan didn't put it together until he finally met Ashcroft's new love. They were at some party when it happened, and Donovan nearly choked on the olives in his martini. He spoke briefly to her at the party, and they mutually agreed to keep their past buried.

They had done an excellent job at first. Aspen Greene's murder had changed things. When he heard that the model was associated with Rachel Sloane, he had wanted to talk to her about it. He didn't. If she needed questioning, Ashcroft could certainly handle things. However, it wasn't good enough for Donovan. Speaking to her was the only way to know.

"You should cut your hair," she said before taking a gulp from her mug. "You look like a drug dealer."

She had seen him with long hair before, of course, and her remark was meant to be snide, an old pitch from their life before. Silently, he sipped his coffee. He gazed at her, noting that she hadn't changed much. Her dark hair barely touched her shoulders. It was still glossy, inky, and without a strand of gray. In college, she wore it longer, almost past her waist. She was still a lovely, confident, intriguing woman. Rachel possessed all the traits he saw as attractive in Lily.

After a long moment, he finally worked up the nerve to speak again. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I know Aspen was your friend." He had briefly glanced at Rachel's wall on the way in. He had been told about it before, but this morning was the first time he had seen it. It was a nice wall, a special one. He knew how much Rachel's friends meant to her. "I heard some from Jack, but I-"

She shook her head. "Don't go there," she whispered. "I know exactly what you did. The moment Jack mentioned me, you became all defensive and scolded him for sharing information about a case. Is that how it went down?"

He met her blinking accusative stare with one of his own. She knew damned well what he had said, but she had no idea what he was feeling. If she wanted to be bitter, so be it. He was about to say exactly what was on his mind, but something stopped him. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly. He knew what the action meant. She was upset, and not at his interruption of her morning routine. Not knowing exactly what Rachel would do, Donovan approached her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't break down, which was what he expected. Instead, she set down her mug and placed her hand on top of his. It was the first time they had touched since he discovered she was living with one of his friends.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About everything."

It was a loaded statement. What exactly was he sorry about? Was he sorry she had read him like a book? Was he sorry she had said exactly what he had done? Was he sorry about their past? He didn't exactly know at the moment. Neither did she. There was only one small gap bridged. There was another waiting right behind it. Now wasn't a time for that.

After he spoke, Rachel took her hand away from his, as if his touch alone had burned her. Maybe it had. What she was about to say startled them both. Suddenly, for her, it seemed as if no time had passed. When she turned to look at him, she understand that it had. In her life, she had made herself a promise. She would never look back. She hadn't, not until today.

"Me too," she said, swallowing a big lump in her throat.

Feeling incredibly awkward now, he shook off the tension. "I should go."

He didn't wait for her to say a word. He started for the front door. Before he left, he noticed a picture on the wall. One he didn't see when he first came in. The face staring back at his was Nona Pope.

Rachel, not hearing Donovan exit, came around to see what was going on. She saw him staring at a photo on her wall. "What is it?"

Donovan turned toward her, cocking his head a bit, he rubbed his bottom lip with his forefinger a brief moment. Thoughtfully, he remarked, "You represent Nona Pope?"

Unsure as to what Donovan's point was, she bit her lip again. His presence was completely unnerving her. He needed to go. He needed to go _now_. "I represent a lot of people. Yes, Frank, Nona is a client. I am more or less her legal representative when she needs one in Florida. She's originally from Miami. What? Do you want tickets to her show?" No sooner than the words left her mouth, she immediately regretted them. She knew why he had gotten interested. "Shit," she whispered. "You think she's next? Is that why Jack received an urgent call?"

He opened the door, but before he stepped out, he looked back at Rachel's confused face. "I'll call you," he said cryptically and left his former lover behind with her confusion.

* * *

Ashcroft walked down the corridor to the office to meet his team members. He noticed that Donovan had yet to arrive, which was strange. He wanted everyone here at seven, but he was running late. Shrugging it off, he continued onward until he saw Lily dart across the hall to the conference room. Perhaps since she and Donovan seemed quite comfy now, they had ridden in together.

Once again shaking his thoughts away, Ashcroft made for the conference room before he visited his own office. He noticed on the way that Abby was busily typing up what was likely a roster of their meeting. When he entered the room, he saw Lily already at the table shuffling through her files. Their muscle guys of the group were in the office just off the conference room. They appeared to be discussing strategy. Ignoring her and the others for the moment, he walked over to the tall silver coffee urn and poured himself a cup. He hadn't had time for his caffeine fix at home. Both he and Rachel had overslept.

Grasping his cup, Ashcroft approached the table and sat down. He fixed his dark eyes on Lily. "Where is Donovan?"

His raspy voice immediately brought her attention off her files. "Your guess is as good as mine, Jack. I haven't seen him since about two this morning."

He looked at her with a start. "You were together?"

Her face immediately pinked. Her skin was very light, so her blush was deep. She hadn't expected that question. "We're not here to discuss that, are we?"

Ashcroft took a sip of coffee before he laughed gruffly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It was Frank's idea for us to meet this early, right? I was simply asking about him."

Their discussion didn't last long. Donovan strode in with purpose. He was draped in a black trench coat. It had been raining lightly as he made his way inside. He shrugged out of the coat and laid it casually over the back of a chair. From the corner of his eye, he saw the faces of Ashcroft and Lily studying him. He wanted to apologize to Lily for ending their evening as they did, and apologize to them all for being late. However, his mood had darkened after leaving Rachel. He wanted to ask Ashcroft if he had noticed Nona Pope's photo on the wall. How could he have missed it? But saying that would be admitting that he had been with Rachel earlier today.

He dodged around everything by simply asking, "Jack, does your girlfriend represent any other local celebrities who might become victims?"

It was a question out of left field. Donovan went out of his way to not mention Rachel or her profession, since he had a thing about lawyers. "Damn, Frank, that is something we don't discuss much."

Donovan didn't know how to go about this without mentioning that he had seen Rachel's wall. Instead, he redirected his focus. He pulled out a chair and sat down. The other members weren't yet present, but that was okay. "I'm sorry, Jack, let me rephrase that. Lily and I feel as if Nona Pope is TSK's next victim. She is coming to town soon, and I thought it might be possible that your girlfriend (he couldn't attempt to mention her name) represents her."

There were dozens upon dozens of photos on Rachel's wall. He saw it every time he entered or left the house. It was hard to avoid it. However, Ashcroft wasn't familiar with Nona Pope's music. He had only vaguely paid attention to her. "She may. I can ask, if you think it's important. However, I don't like mixing her with this or anything. I thought you didn't like the idea of my even mentioning these murders to her."

Donovan sighed. Since he arrived, he wished a thousand times that he hadn't paid Rachel a visit. There were things swirling in his mind and he didn't have a firm grasp on any of it. Not yet. He needed time to process. "I don't," he began. "However, I think you should ask her in case she somehow inadvertently becomes involved."

Ashcroft licked his lips and then pressed them tightly together. He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. It was true that she had some features that TSK seemed to prefer in victims, but there was no way she could get caught up in this just because she happened to represent someone. He would ask. "I'll do it. I'm seeing her later." He mulled something over in his mind for a minute. "She is having some type of memorial thing for Aspen some time this week. We can go and discuss it then. These folks know nothing about our involvement with the case."

Donovan didn't know how much he liked that idea. He felt uncomfortable going back into the house. At least this time, there would be other people around. Rachel wouldn't have time to speak to him, or him to her. The thought of it, however, would likely keep him up at night.

Ashcroft was about to call in their tactical members just as Abby stuck her head in and said the upper brass needed to speak to him. He excused himself absently and went to take the call.

When Donovan and Lily were alone, he approached her and gently touched her shoulder. "Sorry about last night."

She looked up at him with a brilliant smile. "No big deal, Frank. Maybe I can be your date at this lawyer party thing."

He smiled back at her. "Maybe so." He stepped back. "If you'll excuse me…"

Absently, Donovan walked away from the conference room. Ashcroft had gone into his office, Donovan could see. He slipped past him and entered his own. He promised that he would call Rachel, and he fully intended to do just that. He took out his cell and input the number from memory. After a few brief rings, she answered.

"I can't talk long, but Jack just told me about this memorial you're scheduling. Be prepared. I think we're coming."

She took in a deep breath of aggravation. "Why? Is it because of Nona Pope?"

"It is," he said shortly. "We need to be there. We need to talk to you."

"I don't want to be involved with this, Frank," she whispered urgently. "It's not fair. You haven't spoken two words to me in a year, and suddenly, you want me _involved_ with this now? The answer is no, Frank. I'm sorry."

"Don't hang up on me," he demanded. "Listen carefully. We only need to speak to you about Nona Pope. Nothing more than that."

"Nona barely knew Aspen. She won't be here," she insisted stubbornly.

He could almost see her. She was probably chewing heavily on her lip. "That doesn't matter. Jack will speak to you about this further. It's nothing heavy, it's nothing that you can't handle."

"Okay," she said shakily. "In and out, do you understand? I haven't told Jack about us and I fully intend not to. Do we understand each other?"

_Probably more than you know_, he thought. "We do."

Click. She hung up.

Donovan shut his cell phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. When he turned toward the door, Lily was standing there, staring at him quizzically.

"That must have been some conversation. You seem turned inside out," she said evenly.

He wondered how much she heard. From her facial expression, it wasn't much. "Personal business, the kind that gives me headaches," he said with a faint smile.

She nodded. "Okay. Whenever you're ready, we're all back in the conference room."

She was open, beautiful, patient, and obviously caring. At the moment, his soul was much too tormented to take it in, to really give her a chance. Last night, he saw a million possibilities. Today, it was completely different. "I'll be there in a moment."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The room was filled with hundreds of people Nona hardly recognized. In the far corner stood her tour manager with a bottle of Jack and a shot glass. She sighed under her breath. It was one _the_ most irritating habits she had. However, it was hard to cut the strings, because Nona's tour manager happened to be her girlfriend of ten years. Slicing through the crowd, nodding here and there, she made her way slowly to Lana's corner.

Nona hated these things, but since making it big in the industry, these types of parties were the norm. Although she loved what she did, she missed the days of having a regular life, not having to see strangers, kiss cheeks of people she didn't know, and watch Lana shoot Jack. _Whatever_. She had rather have success than be stuck in her hometown working in a job she would most likely hate. That would definitely be worse.

When she finally made it over to Lana, she kissed her cheek softly and grabbed her bottle of booze. Screw it. She would have a drink. Normally Nona would never touch the stuff, but tonight she wanted one. She saw out of the corner of her eye how Lana's eyebrows came up in a slight arch of surprise. Yes, they had been together long enough for Lana to learn of Nona's distaste for alcohol. It stemmed from her younger years when both of her parents were complete drunks. She filled the shot glass and drank it down. After a few minutes, she downed another. Before she could pour her third, Lana grabbed the bottle.

"What in the world is wrong with you tonight," Lana asked softly.

"Nothing really, babe," she answered. "I hate that I have to go to Miami, but it's home," she said with a long sigh. "They're expecting me to play there. If I had my choice, I know where I would go."

Lana slid the bottle to the end of the table. Perhaps she had had enough herself. "Oh, you have heard they're tracking a serial killer out there, haven't you?"

She ended her statement with a mock evil cackle. She knew Nona had a love of the macabre. She may have laughed herself if one of the victims hadn't been a friend. Not many people knew that Nona had taken voice lessons at the same school of arts as Aspen, back when she had been Patsy Sue Greer. In fact, Nona had known her only as Patsy Sue. It was later that she learned Patsy Sue changed her name. A voice mail from a good friend in Florida led her to call and find out that Aspen Greene had been murdered by some nut job. Any other time, Nona may have laughed, but not tonight. She hadn't even told Lana, and she normally told her lover _everything_.

"I know. I haven't told you yet, but the psycho you're referring to killed a friend of mine," she said flatly. Her emotions were muted. It came from being gay in a strict God-fearing family of alcoholics.

Lana sucked in a sharp breath. "Hey, I'm sorry," she began. She tried to put her arm around Nona, but she shrugged it off. It wasn't a mean spirited shove, just one that meant 'back off a little.' She did. "I didn't know, Nona."

Nona nodded. "I know. It's okay." She gave Lana's cheek another soft kiss. "The thing is, I have to do this show in Miami. It's where she lived. She had this attorney chick representing her. I'm having Max to find out what her number is. I've likely missed her funeral, but at least I can extend condolences."

Max was her publicist and personal assistant, and he normally could find anyone she wanted. She didn't like Miami. She didn't like the thick air or the humidity. She liked the people even less, but at least she had a few friends and a lot of fans. She would call Max, find the attorney, do the show, and get the hell out of there. Hopefully, she would never come back. In light of what was to come, her premonitions had substance.

"Cool. At least some good can come of it," Lana said.

Nona nodded, distracted. She reached across the table and grabbed the bottle of Jack. She quickly poured a shot before Lana could take it away from her. "I certainly hope so," she said before downing the shot.

* * *

Ashcroft had long since gone to bed, but Rachel Sloane couldn't sleep. She didn't know how she was going to tell him about the phone call she had received earlier at the office. Everyone on his end were on edge because of Nona Pope's imminent return to Miami for one show. Rachel had scheduled a memorial get together for Aspen, and it was scheduled a day before Nona's show. Today, seemingly out of the blue, she received a call from someone who identified himself only as 'Max.' She was intent on slamming down the phone until he said he worked as a publicist for Nona Pope. Rachel started paying attention.

She didn't know Max, but she had spoken to him before. He told her that apparently, Nona Pope had known Aspen as well as the fact that she represented her in Florida. Her mind went over those words a million times. She knew what this meant. She was being dragged into this case, into a world that meant interacting with Frank Donovan. She didn't exactly know if she was ready to deal with him. It was difficult already. Who was she kidding? However, she had her own secrets, her own demons to deal with, and when she did, hell on earth would arrive.

Rachel's mind went back several years in the past. She thought about the day Frank announced he was leaving college to enter the CIA. She had thrown a fit over that. However, she failed to mention that she had been recruited as well. It was hypocritical of her to be that way, but she couldn't help it. They had break up after break up, but always found their way back to each other. Then came the day he was shot down. She had nearly lost her mind, proclaiming that the spy game was simply going to have to be played without her. She worked him out of her head, even after hearing he had gotten married. The pain was only slight at that news, slighter still when his twins were born. She lived her life, worked hard, and then happened to meet Jack Ashcroft. When he admitted his line of work, she nearly broke it off then. It immediately brought images of a dying lover in some foreign country she still couldn't quite pronounce. Yet, Jack promised life would be different with him, and he was right.

To this day, she could still remember the first time she saw Frank Donovan again. She had audibly gasped. When Jack asked her if she was okay, she lied, telling him he had stepped on her toes. She averted Frank's gaze when Jack introduced them. She could tell he was just as perturbed as she. But there was something else in his eyes, in the way he moved. He was telling her she was a fucking hypocrite. She had walked away from him after he healed only to take up with another man just like him years later.

Frank was right. She was a hypocrite, but she was a hypocrite with a purpose, one she had yet to tell him about. When she left Jack's side to get a drink, Frank approached her. Then and there, she wanted him back so badly her heart ached. She could see something in his eyes as well, but at that time, they were both too bitter to make a step toward anything. They spoke very briefly, trying hard to convey the awkwardness of strangers. However, it didn't take long for old habits to creep in. He offered his hand for her to shake, but when she took it, something sparked. It was more than a mere handshake between strangers, and they both knew it. It happened so fast that neither of them recognized it. When Earth came back in for Rachel, she released his hand so quickly, he nearly asked if he had somehow hurt her. As if knowing what lurked inside his mind, she told him she didn't want to see him again…_couldn't _see him. Her words made it sound as if she hated him and wanted him to go away. It sounded differently to her. When the shock wore off, it also sounded differently to Frank.

When he moved back to Miami after the divorce and implosion of his job in Chicago, he was very much single. When Jack told her he was moving to town, she came so very close to calling him, asking for him to meet her for a drink. She told herself it could be completely innocent. She stopped herself just as the phone began to ring on his end. What the hell was she thinking? She loved Jack. She didn't know if they would ever marry, but she had been totally faithful to him since they moved in together. She was certain he was as faithful as she. That was it. Until he came to visit her. She couldn't drive his voice out of her mind. The touch of his hand on her shoulder etched into her soul as strongly as a lightning bolt striking a tree. She groped his hand like a drowning victim. One touch. That was all it took to bring back years of never thinking of him again. She was once again that young CIA agent who saw the man she loved recovering from massive gun shots that had left deep scars, both physical and mental.

Now this. Now, she would have to see Frank more than just occasionally at super spy job functions. Now, she would have to deal with him as more than just a guy Jack talked about. She clenched her fists, damning him at every flex of her joints. She consoled herself with the thought that this case would be over soon. The FBI would find the killer and everything would go back to normal. She hoped it would. She hoped for everyone's sake that it did. Would it? _Would it_?

Rachel had begun to sob. There was no way she wanted Jack to hear. Covering her mouth with both hands, she left the dark bedroom and made her way into the den located three doors down from the bedroom. She closed the door and collapsed into an overstuffed easy chair. It wasn't her favorite, but it would do. Their walls and doors were thick, two of the most appealing features of the house, the ones that Jack loved so when he needed privacy. For once, Rachel was grateful for that. As soon as she dropped into the chair, one of Jack's, her hands fell away and she let out loud, braying sobs. It had been building inside her since the day Frank left, and now it was finally unleashed.

When the storm ended, she wiped her face on the sleeve of her robe. Sooner or later, she would have to tell Jack about the phone call she received. It seemed as if she was about to invite the devil inside her home, inside the only sanctum she possessed. Before Jack, Frank must know. It was as simple as that.

Earlier tonight, she and Jack had come into the den to relax after dinner. He had been away for a day, and they had some time to make up. But that didn't mean she could ignore work. She had brought in her briefcase and her phone was in there. Jack was sleeping like the dead. He would never hear with the door closed.

Rachel got up and grabbed the case, dragging it by its long strap over to the easy chair. After climbing back into its safe depths, she opened the case and dug into it. After shoving a few non-essential items aside, she spied her phone. It would take courage, but she thought she could muster what she needed to dial the number.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Rachel Sloane, Donovan was having a difficult time himself. For the past day or two, they had banged their heads against one brick wall after another. They decided to delay decoying Lily until after the memorial thing at Jack's and Rachel's. Most of their plans were at a standstill. This frustrated him more than anything. He hated waiting, even though his patience was as legendary as his impatience. This type of waiting was disturbing him in a way he certainly did not like.

Unlike Jack Ashcroft who slept soundly, Donovan was wide awake, much like Rachel Sloane. Tonight, however, he was alone. Maybe if things had been steady, perhaps if he hadn't had to insert himself back into a life he once thought was lost, he might be lying here with Lily. Although their dinner had been nice, and he was looking forward to pursuing something with her, he had yet to broach the subject. Work was one major reason…_the _main reason. Still, he could see it in her eyes, that feeling of being rebuffed or denied. He had sworn years ago that he would not try to have a relationship with someone he knew from work. Rachel hadn't necessarily been a colleague, but their career interests were the same at first.

Cursing under his breath, he sat up on the side of the bed. Sleep was impossible for now. He thought he had sleeping medication in the medicine cabinet he was prescribed after the divorce. He considered the hell out of popping a pill for about ten minutes or more, then decided against it. He stood, leaving behind the comfort of bed and the promise of sleep. His apartment was small, so he had few choices of where to go. It was either the bathroom or living room combination kitchen. He chose the living room.

As a new bachelor, he hadn't had time to shop for furniture, either. He had a couch, a TV, coffee table, shelf, one chair, and a dinette set. He made himself a solemn promise. If they ever solved this case, he would treat himself to a larger place to live with lots of room and new furniture. Where would he put his sons once summer arrived? They certainly couldn't sleep on the floor anymore. They were both taller than he was now.

Stretching out on the couch, he grabbed the remote control and flicked on the TV. He watched half of an infomercial, musing over the conversation he had had with the boys earlier today. They were excited about spending the summer with him in Miami, both desperate to surf in the ocean. It took his mind off the case, gave him something positive to look forward to, but also brought on a wave of sadness and loneliness so bittersweet, that it made him want to cry.

After that sense of loneliness subsided, he was brought back to his conversation with Rachel. For some damned reason, ever since he saw her again, it took hours to chase her out of his mind once he began to think about her. If everything had gone differently in their lives, they might have eventually gotten married, had children, and so on. Then again, UCs in the CIA didn't have very long life expectancies. If not for the injury, if not for their horrid break up, the possibilities would have been endless. It didn't help that she was involved with Ashcroft, either. What? Were they fated to be together? Was that it? At the thought, he chuckled bitterly. He didn't believe in such bull. _Rachel always said you were more concrete than abstract_.

He grunted and clenched his teeth. Where the hell did that come from? He sat up stiffly and ran his hands over his face in an attempt to chase the thought out of his head. He hadn't had many thoughts of his old life with her in years. He remembered seeing her at a work function just after his marriage had gone sour. He recalled how oddly more attractive she seemed draped around Jack Ashcroft. Was it that or was it that old feelings never died? It was as if someone had begun singing the _Hallelujah Chorus_ in his ears. When everything had changed in Chicago and he took the job in Miami, he was highly aware that he would be working with Jack Ashcroft on occasion. Was this a conscious effort to be closer to Rachel in case things went sour? He honestly didn't think his personality was so contrived. But then again, he didn't know. He loved his sons and wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, but his bitterness was what led him into the arms of their mother. What he wouldn't give for one of Cody's lousy jokes right now.

Donovan knew that Cody still called Chicago home. He wondered how his former computer expert would feel if he called him? He stared at his cell phone lying mutely on the coffee table before him. Surely, Cody wouldn't mind hearing from him, even at this hour. In fact, he would probably think it funny in the odd way he had of rationalizing things. He reached for it right at the moment it rang. He damned near cried out. Wondering vaguely if the other fellow might be psychic, he picked up the phone and frowned. It wasn't Cody.

"Rachel?" He said her name in an uneven manner. If this was Ashcroft instead, he would have some explaining to do.

"Yes," she whispered. Although the room was pretty much sound proof, she wasn't taking any chances. "Did I wake you?"

He wanted to tell her she did, just to match her ire and bitterness. In the end, he couldn't. Something about her voice made him think otherwise. "No. What is it?"

She hated the business like tone of his voice. Considering how they were now, she couldn't blame him. She would have given anything to hear him speak like he did when they were a couple. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm really sorry for calling you like this, especially after-"

He cut her off in mid-sentence, feeling no need to sugar coat anything. "We really don't have time to discuss apologies, Rachel. I should really be going."

"Hot date," she said bitterly. Goddamn. This was not what she wanted to say, or how she wanted to say it. "Wait, please. Don't hang up."

Donovan was damned near close to doing just that, but her latter words stopped him in his tracks. "I'm sorry myself, Rachel. Are you okay?"

His voice was softer now, without an edge. This was the Frank Donovan she remembered. "I was wrong about Nona Pope. She knew Aspen. Her publicist called my office unexpectedly. She will attend the memorial."

"Have you told Jack?"

The question was simple, one anyone would have thought to ask. Of course, she should have told Jack. Her lover was an FBI agent working on the case. It was logical. Wrong, but logical. "No."

The first thing he wanted to ask was simple. Why? Why hadn't she gone to Ashcroft first? She _should_ have gone to him first. She didn't. It was telling, and he wouldn't have admitted it in a million years, but it filled his heart with glee. It was hateful, bitter, jealous glee. Shaking it off, cursing himself, he didn't bother asking why. She might have laughed at him. "I suggest you tell him before he comes to work. I don't know how well I can manage a poker face after this."

She placed the back of her hand on her forehead. She laughed at the absurdity of it. It wasn't close to a funny situation at all. A comedy of errors, perhaps, but nothing else. "I don't mean to laugh, but I understand all too well. I'll tell him. What now?"

"I don't know if you should be privy to that information, Rachel," he said matter-of-factly.

"I didn't want this," she said, reminding him of feelings he knew all too well. "If I could do it all over, I would not have walked out."

Unconsciously, he brought his hand up to his chest where scar tissue marred his chest. He rubbed the area roughly. He remembered the first time he had to explain it to his sons. They were on vacation in Hawaii one Christmas when the twins were barely three. Shirtless on the beach, Alton asked what had happened to Daddy's chest. His brother, Adam, goggled up at him and parroted the same question. He glanced at Megan, her eyes were flat, warning him not to lie to the boys. What three year olds would understand that their father had been shot? _Santa replaced Dad's heart with a lump of coal when he was a little boy for being bad_. They had laughed about it. His wife, however, hadn't thought it was so funny. It was the first in a series of arguments that would plague them the rest of their marriage.

Shaking the memory away, Donovan grimaced and closed his eyes tightly until he saw stars. "I know you wouldn't. Tell Jack. Tell him _now_."

"I will."

Without another word, Donovan stabbed the disconnect button and threw his phone back onto the coffee table. For the life of him, he didn't know why he answered the phone when he knew it would be Rachel. Even if the information she had to share would help the case along, it was still a bad idea in a series of bad ones to come. He stomped out of the living room and headed straight for the medicine cabinet. Sleeping pill hangover or not, he was going to take one. After that conversation, he needed sleep.

* * *

"Who was that?"

Rachel, not masking her guilt much by the start she took, spun to look at Ashcroft. He stood in the darkened doorway, a man of average height dressed in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms. He had various tattoos scattered about, one of which was in Latin that basically meant 'to a new life, may it never be darkened by old memories.' It was right above his heart. It was something she saw whenever he took off his shirt. It was a stab, really, because she needed that tattoo on her forehead. She wondered how long he had been standing there. She hadn't heard the door opening.

"Jesus, babe. You scared me," she said.

Her breath came out in sharp hitches. "Sorry," he said absently. "Who was on the phone?"

Hoping he would drop it, knowing he wouldn't do so, she managed a fake smile and a nervous laugh. "Marielle," she lied.

Marielle was Rachel's drama queen sister. If Ashcroft hadn't heard any of the conversation, he would believe that. She was younger than Rachel, somewhat histrionic, and often called very late at night when normal people were sleeping. If he called her bluff, she didn't know what she would do. She took pleasure in thinking fast. It was a skill that helped her career tremendously. Lying helped as well. But she loved to white wash it, calling it 'bending the truth' to suit her need.

"What did she do this time? Kick out her boyfriend," he asked with a wicked gleam of the eye.

Rachel's heart hammered in her chest. She felt a trickle of sweat drop down between her breasts. A good bluffer never let anyone see them sweat. It was a weakness that did not fit her profession. Linen suits, however, masked a multitude of sins. There was no linen suit, but a cotton robe worked wonders as well. She nodded. "Something like that."

He could always retrieve her phone, check it, and know immediately that she lied, but he trusted her. He wouldn't do that. It made her feel all the more guilty. For God's sake, she wasn't cheating on him, or even thinking of it.

"Coming back to bed?"

She watched as he ran his hand through his shaggy, mussed up hair. She wanted to tell him to go back to bed without her, but knew she couldn't send him off without giving him the information about Nona Pope. After all, she promised Frank she would say something. It didn't matter, though, she didn't want to tell him and couldn't exactly pinpoint why.

"In a bit." She gnawed on her lip for a few minutes. He had almost turned to leave her alone. "Jack, wait," she said, stopping him.

"Yeah?"

"I think you should sit down."

He regarded her serious expression and heard the gravid tone of her voice. "Will I like this?"

"Probably not. I don't."

Ashcroft walked over to the easy chair where she sat. Before it was a sturdy table where he liked throwing his books or whatever else he had in his hand while sitting in the chair. He dragged it closer to her and plopped down upon it. He could have easily sat in the chair next to her, but this didn't appear to be one of those occasions where they should relax. It seemed odd that she chose to sit in here to speak to her sister. He batted it aside. That conversation could come later.

"What is it?"

She shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. How could she jump from a light chat with her sister to the subject of Nona Pope? "I should have told you earlier, but I didn't know how. I was wrong about Nona Pope, Jack. She did know Aspen."

For a moment, he didn't quite want to connect the dots. Why was she talking about her goofy sister when she had this weighing on her mind? Something didn't add up. He wasn't sure he would like the connection in the end. "How long did you know this before deciding to tell me?"

She could have lied and said a few minutes. If she had been thinking clearly, her phone call could have been explained away as Nona's publicist. "All day," she admitted.

Her voice was no more than a harsh whisper. "And you have been sitting on this all day without telling me because of what?"

"I don't know," she said lamely. She didn't want to get into the real reason behind her refusal to say something. It wasn't the right time.

Ashcroft was angry, but nothing had been lost by her silence. Still, he wanted an answer better than 'I don't know.' Although she wasn't in the same business, she knew how important tips were. She damned well should know, she was an attorney. "Baby, I don't understand your reasoning. Or your non reasoning, I suppose." Suddenly, the importance of the phone call came back to him. "Who was on the phone? It wasn't Marielle. Was it?"

She dug in her heels. "It was," she said stubbornly. "Her call came at an awkward time, I admit. I'm already upset about this case as it is. Now it appears as if I'm being dragged into it further."

Her last words were a good dodge. Just not good enough. "What is it, Rachel," he demanded. "For a while now, I have noticed how worked up you are about this. I know you. I know how you are when your friends are involved with anything. I am here for all your gripe sessions when clients are being dragged through the mud. Aspen was murdered. You were completely fired up about it. Suddenly, you seem like you don't care, like you would rather sweep it under the rug."

She could have slapped him if she wasn't hiding another bigger secret. He stared at her intensely, as if she were a suspect. She did not like to be under the microscope. He sat closely before her, probably doing so on purpose. It was harder to escape with him so close, and he knew it. There was no where to go, no where to run.

"You're wrong," she hissed. "I care more than you could ever understand. I'm hurt that you would even _suggest_ I don't care."

Rachel wanted him angry. If he became worked up enough, he would leave her and go back to bed. She could sit here until he fell asleep, then slip back into bed unnoticed. Her words didn't incense him, not enough for him to leave. He sat back, sighed, and ran his hand through his shaggy locks again.

"That did not come out the way I intended," he began. "I want a reason, Rachel. I don't want to hear you tell me that you don't know why you couldn't tell me." He reached out to touch her cheek, giving it a gentle caress before running his thumb over her bottom lip. It was ragged where she had chewed it. "I know you care about Aspen. Tell me. Tell what you think I can't hear."

FBI agents made lousy lovers. They could always read their partners, immediately figuring out the moment a lie was being told. If they couldn't work it out with an intense gaze, they would always use words. They were manipulative without seeming so. "I can't tell you." She was dodging a bullet. Lying without telling a lie. "Can we leave it at that, Jack? Just for tonight?"

His hand dropped away from her face. "Attorneys are lousy lovers," he said, his words mirroring her thoughts. Resigned, he stood and headed for the door. Just short of leaving her, he turned back to give her one last gaze. "It's fine for now, but I won't leave it alone."

She thanked every higher power in existence for his giving up, even if it was only for a few hours. "All right."

"I'll meet with the team tomorrow morning. We'll go from there."

"That's fine," she said. "Thank you."

He wanted to ask why it was necessary for a couple to thank each other in such fashion. He chose to drop it as he promised. Besides that, he was tired and felt no further need to continue digging in too deeply. He had another thought, another way of finding the answers to questions she wasn't prepared for.

Early the next morning, Jack Ashcroft decided to do something he swore he never would do. It was something that could completely end his relationship with Rachel. He had never had reason to mistrust her, but the game was swiftly changing these days, especially since she decided to choose stubbornness. While she was in the shower, he went into the den. Spying her briefcase, he noticed she had left it open and vulnerable for prying eyes. Yet, at home, she had no reason to worry about confidentiality. Neither did he. They didn't have any trust issues. If she were to catch him, to witness his deed, they would definitely have a different type of conversation, one dealing with having secrets.

Looking over his shoulder, he listened carefully for the shower. It was running. Rachel had no reason to jump out to check up on her snooping boyfriend. Plus, she wouldn't waste water to catch him. She drove a hybrid, recycled, and all that. Rachel Sloane was a good citizen. Careless, perhaps, but good. He found her cell phone after a few moments of rummaging around, not before sticking himself with the sharp edge of a letter opener. Deftly, he held back a curse and stuck his bleeding finger into his mouth. His free hand grabbed the phone. Effortlessly, he tapped the screen with his thumb, found a folder that contained all the numbers she last dialed, and hit pay dirt. Blessed with short term memory loss, she hardly ever erased any numbers. It was something he counted on. He saw the number from last night and stared at it for a very long time. Ashcroft had no trouble recognizing the number. It wasn't Marielle's. It was Frank Donovan's. What the hell? Why had she been speaking to Donovan?

With more questions in his head than answers at the moment, he dropped the phone back into her briefcase. It appeared that one Rachel Sloane had some explaining to do. No one had time for this, not with a serial killer haunting Miami.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Nursing a sleeping pill hangover, Frank Donovan dragged himself out of bed and managed to arrive at work on time. In fact, he was early. With a pang, he noticed both Ashcroft's and Lily's cars were there as well. He was hoping for a bit of solitude this morning. He wasn't quite ready to interact with either of them. Perhaps they would be somewhere else for a few minutes, at least until he could get himself together properly.

As he walked down the long corridor leading to their suite of offices, he barely noticed others passing by him, staring at his appearance. Normally when he came in, he made sure he tied his hair back. Today, he didn't care what it looked like. The instant he rolled out of bed, he ran a comb through it and left it at that. If anyone wanted to complain, he had a few choice words for them. Besides, everyone knew he worked in the UC division, so perhaps no one would become mouthy. At least, he hoped not.

Ashcroft was not in his office this morning. He stood in the conference room trying to contain his anger and bitter disappointment at finding out Rachel had called Donovan last night. His office was next to Donovan's and he didn't want to see him when he came in. Not yet. This morning, he left Rachel in bed. He couldn't confront her about the phone call yet. He needed to hear it from Donovan's lips. As far as he knew, Rachel didn't know Donovan very well. He could probably count on one hand the times they had spoken to each other. They were never together at functions, so he didn't see the connection.

An indignant slam brought him out of his funk. Lily had come into the room with her usual armload of files and information. She must have seen him in here and decided that they were having another meeting. Perhaps they needed to, especially since he knew Nona Pope would attend Aspen's memorial service. The last couple of days, she seemed on edge and agitated. There must be some strife in her blooming romance with Frank Donovan.

"What crawled up your ass and died," Ashcroft asked casually after taking a long gulp from his coffee mug.

Lily, at first, didn't pay him any attention. She was momentarily drawn into her own little world. After a moment, his comment sunk in. "Screw you, Jack," she said with a sigh.

He smiled sardonically her way, taking note she was dressed smartly in black slacks and a bright blue turtle neck sweater made from some fuzzy material he couldn't identify. She seemed more like a college coed than a fellow agent. She looked much younger than her years. "Sorry. Both of us must be having a bitch of a day."

She shrugged nonchalantly and made her way over to the coffee urn in the corner of the room. She prepared her own coffee and carried her mug back to the table. She pulled out a chair and dropped into it. "Where's Frank?"

This time, Ashcroft shrugged. "Don't you know?"

His question grated her nerves. How _would_ she know? Their impromptu date had been interrupted by work, and Donovan hadn't mentioned going out again. She wouldn't say how much that hurt to anyone, especially not Jack Ashcroft. It was none of his business. "Jack, I shouldn't even say this to you, but there is nothing going on between Frank and me."

Under his breath, he said, "Frank gets around."

"What does that mean?"

Ashcroft looked up at Lily. She was an attractive woman. She was smart, efficient, and tough when it was warranted. He respected her as much as any other colleague in the business. "Nothing," he said distractedly. "You should ignore me."

Lily took a drink of her coffee and nodded. "Done. Before I do, though, I would like to know one thing."

He met her gaze, giving her a look that said 'what.' "Go ahead."

"What are we doing in here today? Another strategy session?"

"Yeah. There has been a hitch with Nona Pope. I'll go into it further when Donovan gets here."

Donovan walked by the open door of the conference room mere seconds after Ashcroft made his statement. He glanced in and saw both Lily and Ashcroft inside. He was hoping for a few minutes in his office to prepare himself for the day, but it didn't look like that would happen any time soon. Instead of entering his office, he came into the conference room, immediately heading toward the coffee. Although he couldn't see them, he knew Lily and Ashcroft were looking at him. Unless out in the field, they were not accustomed to seeing him with his hair down. Lily noticed that he looked like hell warmed over. Ashcroft saw something else. He saw a man who was tormented, a man who had evidentially been speaking to a woman he wasn't supposed to know.

He turned to approach the conference table and noticed how his team members were looking at him. He decided to ignore their glances. Donovan took a seat one down from Lily across from Ashcroft. He knew what was about to happen today, but he couldn't be the first to bring it up. After all, Rachel had promised to share her information with Ashcroft. He hoped like hell she had. Otherwise, Ashcroft might think he was becoming psychic.

Donovan casually sipped at his coffee. He set the mug down carefully and folded his hands before him. "What brings us to strategy today?"

Ashcroft looked from Lily to Donovan back to Lily again. Her eyes were focused on Donovan. Yes, he looked like death warmed over. He could see the concern in Lily's eyes. If this was how he wanted to play the game this morning, he was all for it. They could speak about Rachel later. Something in him killed that idea. "You don't know," Ashcroft asked, a question he had just parroted to Lily earlier in a different context.

Donovan looked at Ashcroft as if he had lost his mind. "How would I know, Jack? I thought we were going to meet later today to discuss Aspen Greene's memorial."

He was slick. He was slick and Ashcroft actually hated him for that. It could wait. He would bring it up, but it didn't need to be in front of Lily. "Never mind," Ashcroft said, waving a dismissive hand. "Rachel Sloane, Aspen Greene's legal counsel, has informed me that Nona Pope was friends with Aspen. Her people called Rachel's office and informed her that Nona would be attending the memorial."

Donovan didn't react, but Lily did. She took in a shocked breath. "What the hell? This is like that stupid game Six Degrees of Separation."

"That's right," Ashcroft agreed. "It is. So our presence at this function will be needed more than it was needed before. The affair is by invitation only, but we don't know the guest list at this point."

"When is this supposed to happen?"

Ashcroft glanced at Donovan. He still wasn't the slightest bit unnerved. He focused his eyes on Lily to answer her question. "The day after tomorrow."

"Terrific," Lily said blandly. "Are we done?"

"Yeah," Ashcroft said. "You go on Lily. I need to speak to Donovan for a minute."

At that, Donovan looked up and gave Ashcroft a strange look. Lily didn't like the sound of it or the look plastered on Donovan's face. She glanced at Ashcroft. His lips were pressed in a tiny little line. She had seen this before. He was pissed about something. Lily was curious, but there was no way she would stick around for it.

She stood and gathered her things. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

The two men waited for her to leave the room. As soon as she did, Ashcroft got up and closed the doors to the conference room. The others leading to the offices of Hurtz and Lockwood were already closed. He went back to the table. Instead of taking his seat, he approached the area where Donovan sat and pushed the chairs aside. He hopped up onto the table about half a foot away from Donovan.

Ashcroft watched as his friend slid back from the table, pushing his chair off to the side. He wouldn't hop up onto the table, but he damned well was not going to sit straight beside him. He wanted to look him in the eye. He had no clue what Ashcroft needed to speak to him about without Lily present. Whatever it was, he knew he wasn't going to like it. And he was right.

"What is this?" Donovan asked, immediately crossing his arms before him. He knew what the action meant to interrogators, but he didn't give a shit.

Ashcroft didn't know how to approach the subject without sounding pissy, but there seemed to be no other way. "Why did Rachel call you last night?"

Donovan was surprised at the question, not as surprised as he would have been if he hadn't known Rachel. Did he want to take the coward's way out and lie? Did he want to open a can of worms and tell the truth? He thought about it for a long moment. He wanted nothing to do with this conversation. He decided to go another way. "Perhaps you should ask her."

Ashcroft laughed bitterly. "Man, I certainly expected that. I'm not speaking to Rachel right now, I'm speaking to you. Why did she call you?"

"I don't think we should waste our time talking about this, Jack," Donovan said. He grabbed his mug and took a long swallow of coffee. What he wouldn't have given for a shot of whiskey.

"What is it, Donovan? Why did she call you? I didn't think the two of you knew each other. Apparently you do."

Donovan sighed heavily. It was hard to call in sick as a UC. Today, if he had had any other job, he certainly would have called in. This moment was one he dreaded. "It's something neither of us expected to come to surface. Several years ago, Rachel and I were involved."

Ashcroft swallowed a lump in his throat. "Involved? _Involved_? What does that mean?"

"I knew her before she met you, Jack. We met in college. She called me because after Aspen died, I made contact with her. I knew Aspen was her friend." Donovan watched as the other man rubbed his chin. "There is nothing going on now. I assure you."

"Of course not," he said smartly. "You have been trying to get into Lily's pants the last week or so." He hopped down off the table. "We're done with this for now. We need to prepare for the memorial."

Without another word, Ashcroft left the room. Donovan lifted his mug and drained it. After that, he slammed down the mug with enough force to crack it. He had not wanted any complications, but here they were. The words were out, his past with Rachel was out in the open. He didn't know what type of conversation had gone down between him and Rachel, but he hoped it wasn't like this. He knew it would do more harm than good, but he had the greatest urge to call Rachel. If she didn't know about this now, she would need a warning beforehand. However, he did not know if he was ready to speak to her now, even if it meant warning her that Ashcroft was on the war path.

After a few minutes, Donovan stood and tossed the cracked mug into the garbage pail beside the front door. He stepped out of the conference room and slowly made his way to his own office. He was surprised to note that Lily was there, waiting for him. He closed the door behind him and gazed down at her. He said nothing. He knew he owed her an apology for starting something he didn't finish. It wasn't fair to her. None of this was.

"I think I know why you're here," Donovan began awkwardly. Instead of going over to his desk, he chose to sit beside her. He reached over and took her hand. "I'm really sorry about putting everything on the back burners."

Lily was more than pleased when he took her hand in his. It felt nice, she felt connected to him. "You don't have to apologize. I know how things around here can get."

"I will make it up to you. Although it is a work thing, would you like to accompany me to the memorial?"

She laughed flirtatiously. "As your date? I'd love to."

"Good," he said. "If you'd like, I could cook for you tonight."

Her heart hammered in her chest. When their date was interrupted by the news of Nona Pope's arrival, she didn't think she would have another chance like this again. "I'd like that." Although she didn't want to, she released his hand. "I should get back to my office."

He stood and walked her to the door. Just before she exited the office, he grabbed her arm, turned her to face him, and planted a deep kiss on her awaiting mouth. It was something she didn't expect. It was something he didn't expect to do. It just happened. Just like that. Without a word, she pulled away and left his office. The moment she was gone, he went to his desk, sat down, and buried his face into his hands. What just happened didn't feel right. It felt fake. He was compelled by the simple fact that he must drive Rachel Sloane out of his mind by any means necessary.

* * *

Rachel had a light day in court. She had planned her schedule this way to go over the plans for Aspen's memorial. She kept busy so she didn't have to think about the other half of the equation. Frank Donovan. He would be there. She would be there. It was bound to be a mess.

Jack had left before she got out of bed this morning. She thought they would get together and discuss what had happened last night. Never in a thousand life times would she guess that he had seen her phone. He had seen who her last call had been made to, and further, he was as pissed as hell.

She arrived home by four and was surprised to see Jack's car in the driveway. This was the first time he had been home before her since his new case had started to become more involved. She didn't like that at all. Shrugging her premonition aside, she grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door. He had left it unlocked, which was something else he never did. She pushed through the door, walked past the photo tribute wall, and set her case down next to her chair. She didn't see Jack in the living room, so she guessed he might be sitting in the den. She was right. When she entered, he sat in the room alone. The TV was silent, as was the radio. He never came in here without turning on one of the two. Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong.

"Hey, babe. What are you doing home so early?"

He didn't look at her. He shook his head and smiled. The smile was bitter, hard, one she hadn't seen before. "Everyone left early today. Donovan and Lily paired up and disappeared, so I thought I should do the same. We have some heavy work to do, so we're sowing our recreational oats while we can."

His words didn't make much sense to her. However, she did feel a pang of jealousy when he mentioned that Donovan had gone off with the female member of their team. She shook it away. "Is there anything in particular you want to do tonight? I thought we could go out to Dionne's, have dinner, and dance a little."

"No, babe. Not tonight."

She could tell he was preoccupied. She sat in the chair beside his and turned in her seat to look at him. Something was definitely wrong. He would not turn down a night at Dionne's for anything, especially if he had time. She placed her hand on top of his, and he recoiled. She sat back, hurt and confused. What was going on here? He had never given her such a cold reception before.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"You lied to me last night, Rachel," he began. He looked at her, saw her beautiful confused face, and for a moment, he wanted to slap her. He resisted the urge greatly. "You weren't talking to Marielle or Shelby. I called them both. They haven't heard from you in days." This latter statement was a blatant lie. He didn't like either of them, they were busybodies, but he needed fuel in case she wanted to deny his words. "I didn't want to do it, Rachel, but I looked at your phone. You were talking to Frank Donovan."

She felt two emotions at once: anger and guilt. She was angry with him for invading her privacy, but she also felt guilty at being caught. "Why would you do that? I thought we trusted each other."

He laughed. "Oh, trust. You mention trust. Why didn't you bother to tell me you were Donovan's woman during your checkered past? Why didn't you tell me any of this?" He stood up and thrust a sheaf of papers toward her. "I checked you out. I have friends, too, Rachel. Friends in very high places. These friends told me you were in the fucking CIA with Frank Donovan. So you were sleeping with the guy and working UC in the CIA. Why didn't you feel the need to tell me any of this?"

"What does it matter now," she asked. "It was in the past. He means nothing to me."

He approached her, leaned down, and propped his hands on the arms of her chair. "If he means nothing to you, then why did you call him!"

His face was mere inches from hers. He had never shouted at her like this. He was supremely pissed, his nostrils flared, and his jaws were clenched tightly. "I," she sputtered.

"And don't tell me you don't know," he demanded.

"It was a bad relationship, Jack. I called him because I knew he would be around me. I didn't want him around me," she cried.

"You know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like you still have feelings for him. Is that it? You want him?"

"No," she cried again, horrified. "There is nothing between us anymore, Jack. Nothing but animosity and bitterness."

Her answer was too close to Donovan's for comfort. He didn't like that. Ashcroft pulled away from her. He ran his hand through his hair. Shaking his head, smiling bitterly all the while, he said, "We'll see, won't we? Rachel, you shouldn't have lied to me. I thought we were different, you know? Different than other couples out there. But I suppose I was being naïve. Whatever the case, I need to be alone for a while."

"I'll go, if that's what you want," she said softly.

"No need, babe. I think I'll go."

* * *

Donovan awoke with a start. He wasn't sure what it was, but something surely brought him out of a sound sleep. Beside him, Lily hadn't moved. He sat up on the side of the bed and grabbed his robe. Standing, he slipped into the robe and belted it tightly around him. He glanced back at Lily once before leaving her in bed. He entered the small kitchen and saw that it was a mess. After cooking dinner for them, they ate, drank wine, talked, and wound up in bed. It was nice. Lily was fetching. He was simply not fetched. It was wrong, but he couldn't help it. He never knew what awaited him if he didn't take a chance. Wasn't that something he had been told all his life?

He approached the stove. It resembled a disaster area. He was a good cook, albeit a messy one. It could wait until later, but he couldn't sleep. He rolled up the sleeves of his robe and grimly set about cleaning up. He didn't think he would awaken Lily. If he did, it might seem a bit callous leaving her in bed all alone on their first night together. While the sink filled up with water, he wondered vaguely if this made them a couple now. If so, maybe Ashcroft wouldn't seem so threatened. He wanted to know exactly what happened between Ashcroft and Rachel. Despite his curiosity, he wouldn't ask. After all, it did not concern him anymore.

Slowly, he began stacking pots and pans into the sudsy water. He grabbed a sponge out of a nearby soap dish and began the task of scrubbing the dishes within. It would give him time to think, and possibly make him tired enough to go to bed. He didn't want Lily waking up in the morning without him there. When the bedroom door creaked open, he realized it was too late. She was already awake.

He watched as Lily padded slowly toward him. She had donned his discarded shirt. She looked young, fresh, and absolutely adorable. "Don't tell me you're a neat freak too?"

Donovan smiled at her. "It was driving me crazy, so I had to do something about it."

She stood beside him and took a healthy hand full of his left buttock, squeezing heartily. "I can see that."

Her perfume was light and airy, it reminded him of a flower that he could not name right away. "I had a bout of insomnia. I didn't meant to leave you in there alone."

"That's okay. You want some help?"

He handed her another sponge. "If you don't mind."

She laughed out loud. "I don't." She began scrubbing alongside him. "I never imagined my first night with you would involve washing dishes."

"Neither did I," he said. "When we're finished, I will make it up to you."

Later on, as promised, he did.

* * *

There was major press with Nona Pope's arrival in Miami for the memorial and the concert. Donovan, Hurtz, Lockwood, and Ashcroft met her at the airport and escorted her to her hotel. They waited in the lobby while she readied herself for the memorial. They were aware of everything and everyone.

It was awkward standing with Ashcroft after their conversation the other day. In fact, neither Donovan nor Ashcroft spoke two words to each other the entire time they were at the hotel. Part of it was hyper vigilance, the other was even easier to see. They didn't know what to say to each other. It was okay with both men. They needed to stay focused on other things right now. They could fall out later. Right now, the life of Nona Pope was more important than their bullshit argument over Rachel.

Nona Pope came out of her hotel room surrounded by her entourage. The normally outlandish singer was dressed simply in a black dress, her eyes covered by black sunglasses. Quietly, the four men followed her out of the hotel and into an awaiting limousine for the trip to Rachel Sloane's house.

Rachel stood amongst a group of friends and acquaintances of Aspen Greene. She had been told to expect Nona Pope to arrive shortly. Most of the people in her home were folks she had never met in her life. Some were from her law firm. A few members of Aspen's family were present. Rachel located their small group and joined them. She chatted with them nervously. Her mind was elsewhere. Since her fight with Jack, they hadn't spoken much to each other. They knew Frank Donovan would also be here today, and that caused an uneven mood to the event. Rachel tried to keep everything in line with their true purpose here. They were here for Aspen Greene. No one else. If she kept telling herself that, she would be okay.

She hoped that once the agents arrived with Nona, Rachel would have a few minutes to at least apologize to Jack. He had a right to be angry, but she absolutely hated the discourse that had erupted in their relationship.

* * *

At another location in town, other plans were being made by other people. At the last minute, Lincoln and Holly met at their apartment. After a violent lovemaking session, they set out plans. They knew Nona Pope's every move. They would launch a plan to separate her from her guard dogs. They knew just exactly how to do it as well.

* * *

Rachel looked up as Nona Pope made her entrance. Behind her came Donovan, Ashcroft, Hurtz, and Lockwood. Nona's entourage entered after them. Behind them entered a tall woman with short blonde hair. Rachel didn't know her, but was certain she was with the gaggle of FBI agents in her home. When the girl approached Donovan and took his arm, Rachel looked away quickly. She watched Jack pass by her and immediately he approached the open bar. He didn't order anything heavy, as he was on duty, but he needed something for his dry throat.

Moving through the throngs of people gathered around, Rachel approached Jack where he stood drinking a club soda. "Are we okay?"

He cut his eyes in her direction without actually looking her way. "I don't know. Are we?"

She sighed heavily. "Jack, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

He finished off his virgin drink in one gulp. "We don't have time for this. We have a job to do. Later."

Ashcroft walked away from her and approached the other agents. None of them were letting Nona Pope out of their sights. He noticed that Donovan's eyes were scanning the crowd. What he was scanning for still was yet to be known. Was he scanning the crowd for suspicious people? Was he scanning for Rachel? Ashcroft didn't know and he didn't want to ask. They all watched when Nona Pope approached Rachel at the bar. The two women spoke briefly, then embraced the way strangers will when a mutual friend has died.

After that, Rachel made her way toward the agents. For the most part, she knew they were to be included in Nona's inner circle. No one else, as far as Rachel knew, understood that they were actually with the FBI.

"What do I need to do," she asked.

She didn't know who she was directing her question to, but she hoped someone would answer. All of them looked her way, but no one had yet to open their mouths.

"If you see anyone you don't recognize, approach them, and tap their shoulders," Ashcroft finally said. "You don't need to do anything else. Just that."

"Okay."

Lily, who stood next to Donovan, immediately sensed how his body tensed up when Rachel approached. It was something she didn't understand, but knew she had to ask about. She tugged on his arm, indicating that they needed to move through the crowd in the house. They could see Nona Pope at any vantage point in the room. They wanted to blend in with the crowd, but were having a piss poor time at it. Everything was weird now. Lily understood none of it.

Lincoln and Holly stood in the room filled with people. This Sloane chick had a nice house. Each of them took turns gazing at her celebrity wall. Hot damn. More potential victims. Hell, looking at Rachel Sloane, she fit their mold well, didn't she? She was just too old, though. Wasn't she? Ignoring her for the time being, Lincoln moved away from Holly and moved around the room. Nona Pope stood with another female and a grizzly bear looking guy. If either of them could somehow draw her away from them, they would have her in their grasp. They wanted to get her before her show. This was one bird who would never sing again.

Lana and Max moved away from Nona to hit the bar. They never knew their friend was in any danger. It gave the TSK team a chance to move in toward their target.

"Anyone here you don't know," Heath Hurtz asked Rachel.

She saw that Donovan, Ashcroft, and Lily were no where in sight. She glanced up at the young agent. "Lots," she said, annoyed. "No one who is here doesn't belong, though. They're either with Nona or you or Aspen's family."

"Keep watching," he reminded her, as if she would forget.

"I absolutely love your music."

Nona looked up to acknowledge the handsome young man standing before her. Hadn't she been introduced to him before? Shrugging the thought away, she smiled. This was something she heard on a daily basis. "Thanks," she said. "You are?"

"Lincoln."

His gaze made her uneasy. He must have been one of those guys who like to bore their eyes into someone's soul. "Nice to meet you."

He extended his hand toward her. Reluctantly, she put her hand in his. Immediately, she felt a prick at the skin on her palm. Did he have a pin in his hand or something? "What was that?"

"Not sure what you mean, Ms. Pope," he said with a smile.

Nona left the leering weirdo and moved toward the bathroom. She couldn't see the agents from her vantage point, but that was okay. After all, they didn't need to watch her going to the bathroom. She went into the bathroom to look at her hand. There was a small hole in her palm. It hurt like fuck. And the weird thing about it was this odd feeling coming over her. She felt woozy, numb. Nona was stunned when the bathroom door came open. Hadn't she remembered to lock it? She was relieved to see that it was a woman, not that leering asshole who obviously stuck something in her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here," she said.

"You could have tried knocking, sweetheart," Nona said sharply.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pope. Are you okay?"

"Actually, I'm not. Some dude stuck me with something."

Nona turned to look at the woman. She had closed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. She didn't like this situation. And again, she was certain she had met this woman somewhere already.

"What did you just do," Nona asked.

The woman shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just trying to help you."

"Do what?" Nona was feeling more woozy by the minute. The other woman's face was starting to blur and swirl around.

The woman stepped in just as Nona was passing out. She grabbed her just before she hit the cold linoleum floor. "It's okay," the woman whispered. "I'm going to take good care of you. My name is Holly."

Rachel looked from person to person at her memorial service for Aspen Greene. She couldn't see Nona anywhere. Donovan, Jack, and the other two FBI goons were milling through the crowd. The female agent came from the rear of the room. She was cutting through the crowd as well, looking for Nona. Rachel made out the faces of Nona's girlfriend, her publicist, and a few others that she didn't know. There was, however, no Nona Pope. Her heart banged in her chest, sweat trickled down her back. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to Nona Pope. Not after Aspen. She prayed that Nona had simply just gotten lost. Hers and Jack's house wasn't enormous, but the bathrooms were a bitch to locate.

"Rachel," a voice called.

She identified it as Frank Donovan. She slowly made her way toward him. "Where is she," she hissed.

"Her girlfriend said she went to the bathroom. Lily checked already. She's not there."

_Fuck_! Surely no one had been able to abduct a heavily guarded rock star from her home? "She can't have left. I was watching her, not her every move, but well enough."

He squeezed her forearm gently, reassuringly. "We'll find her."

After effectively drugging her with a neurotoxin, Lincoln dressed her in a waiter's outfit that Holly had stolen earlier. Holly had taken a pair of enormous shears and chopped off Nona's long hair. Without her flowing locks and dressed as she was, no one would know it was really Nona Pope. Holly helped him load her into the back of their SUV. There, she was tied up, gagged, and covered with a blanket. The SUV had tented windows and was soundproof. No one would hear her screams if the drugs wore off before they could leave.

Lily trotted up to where Donovan and Rachel stood. "She's not outside," she told them.

"She has not been abducted," Rachel insisted stubbornly. "Weren't you watching her? Wasn't this the reason you insisted on coming?"

"Rachel, calm down," Donovan said evenly. He put his arm around her and moved her away from the crowd. "You need to get a drink and calm down. We'll find her."

Lily stood in one corner of the room watching Donovan and Rachel jealously. She didn't like how he was touching her. In another corner stood Jack Ashcroft. He saw the way Donovan touched her. Inside, he fumed. From across the room, Lily's and Ashcroft's eyes met.

At some point later in the evening, Nona's eyes opened and she realized she was gagged. When she tried to move, she saw she was bound as well. _What the fuck_? She tried to spit out the gag, but it was no use. It was lodged deeply in her mouth and covered with layers of duct tape. She was in a SUV. It was moving, but she didn't know where she was going to be taken.

Some sound made her look around and she saw the woman from the bathroom. She moaned against the gag, trying to plead with the other woman to help her out of this situation.

"No use, honey," the woman said. "We're in this together." Nona's eyes opened wide in terror as she watched the woman dig out a pair of scissors. In her other hand, she held what was once Nona's prized jet black hair. "I'm going to keep your hair for a bit," she said. "I think Lincoln wants your vocal cords. Relax. Soon your pain will end and you will be in Heaven."

Earlier before the scene in the SUV went down, the FBI agents were on edge. Without raising any suspicions amongst the crowd, no one said Nona Pope was missing. Donovan sent Lily, Ashcroft, Hurtz, and Lockwood outside to search. His internal homing system found Rachel. She was gnawing her lip and working out the wrinkles in her modest black dress. Unable to wait any longer, he approached her.

"Rachel, it's okay. We'll find her."

His words didn't comfort her. He had been repeating them over and over. No matter what he said at this point, it wouldn't ease the terror building up inside her. "I don't know about that," she said shakily. "She's missing Frank. It's as simple as that. She was taken from my own home. _My home_. I don't want any of your negotiator bullshit, either. She's going to die. It's all my fault!"

Not caring about the consequences of his actions, he took her in his arms and held her. "It's not your fault. She may have just left. It's going to be okay."

Donovan and Rachel were being watched. The two people watching them looked at each other from across the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The SUV came to an abrupt halt. By then, the neurotoxin was starting to wear off. Nona had begun to move, to struggle against her bonds. Before she was able to get too far, Holly was there, putting her into her place. She kicked Nona in the small of her back violently, causing a jolt of pain that went throughout her body. Holly took her chance and jammed a hypodermic needle into Nona's arm. Nona moaned against the gag. It fucking hurt. If she could work her way loose, she would stick her booted foot up Holly's ass. Sadly, she didn't think she was going to get loose any time soon. Desperately, Nona fought against the drug, memorizing every detail she could about her abductors. Some way, she had to send a message out to the good guys.

When her world began to blacken around her, she saw the double doors at the back of the SUV coming open. The man, who called himself Lincoln, crawled into the back with the two women. Sitting up on his knees, he stared down at her almost comically. He took his index finger and poked her. The tranquilizer was working nicely now. She barely made a noise. He cackled with the glee of a five year old playing with his favorite toy. This was always the best part-subduing them.

Lincoln took a hand full of her shortened black hair. Without her long locks, she really wasn't all that pretty. He didn't care. He saw that Holly held most of her hair in one hand. She probably would have shaved Nona bald if Lincoln had let her. Holly always became so jealous when he messed with the girls. How could he tell her enough that she was the only one to get him? How could he tell her enough that if he had the capability to love, it would be her he loved? She never listened to him.

"How long is it going to take to remove her larynx?" Holly asked.

Lincoln shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure, but we can't do it here."

"We need to hurry. We're due back."

Later, he would have to remind her that she wasn't the one in charge here. He was. Right now, they didn't have time for such a lesson. "I know we're due back. Keep your panties on."

* * *

Several hours before the conversation between Holly and Lincoln would occur, the agents at the residence of Rachel Sloane and Jack Ashcroft were completely unsure how Nona Pope had slipped from their grasps. They spread out to interview the other guests, all the while keeping the buzz down. If word got out that Nona Pope was missing, the neighborhood would be crawling with the press and paparazzi.

Once Donovan noticed how long he held onto Rachel, he moved away from her abruptly. He wasn't one who often allowed a person out of his sight. He wasn't one who often allowed a potential victim out of his grasp. It was fucked. The longer they waited, Nona would die. He watched as Nona's publicist pulled out his cell phone and began jawing outrageously into it. Hanging onto him was a cool blonde whom Donovan identified as Nona's girlfriend. Although the man was taller and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, it didn't stop Donovan from jerking the phone out of his hand.

Angered, Max glared down at the agent. He couldn't remember his name for the life of him. "You're about to lose a tooth for that, man."

Knowing that Max was upset about his friend coming up missing, Donovan didn't do what he first wanted to do, which was giving him a severe shot to the Adam's apple. "If you would like to spend about ten years in a federal prison, go ahead. Right now, we need silence."

Lana glared at the federal agent. "Nona is missing and somebody snatched her right under your over educated nose, you fucker. I'm calling the fucking police."

Just what they needed. Local police who usually brought along the press and other publicity whores. "No, you're not. _If_ she was abducted, _if_ she is in trouble, your call to the police will surely end her life. Put your phone away and let us do our jobs. When it's time, I will call the police. Do the two of you understand me?"

Reluctantly, Max put away his phone, but his eyes still spelled murder. Beside him, Lana said something to the effect of 'are you taking that shit from him, Max?' Donovan turned away from the mountain of a man and Nona's girlfriend to search for Rachel. It was time to put this memorial to bed. She was the hostess: it would be her responsibility. As far as he knew, everyone else had been quietly interviewed, their names, addresses, and phone numbers taken for good measure. He found Rachel speaking to someone he thought was related to Aspen Greene. Her hand was at her throat, fingering a string of pearls nervously. He only hoped she had kept her cool enough not to let anything out that didn't need to be spilled.

Rachel felt a tug at her arm. She looked away from Aspen's brother and focused her eyes on Donovan's face. She excused herself and allowed him to lead her away. "What is it?" she asked shakily.

"Keep your mouth closed about Nona Pope. Are we clear on that?"

She nodded without speaking. Rachel thought before the night was through, she might lose her mind. "What do you need me to do?" she whispered.

He brought his mouth close to her ear, as if he were whispering sweet nothings. He didn't want to see her visibly upset. Mourning was okay, but not having a fit about a missing rock star. "What you need to do is wrap up the memorial. We need everyone out of here. Keep your cool, you are functioning beautifully."

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want me to do. What about the police?"

"Don't worry about them for now. We can handle the scene until they arrive."

Donovan stood, watchful, eagle eyed as slowly, one by one, Rachel ushered the guests from the house. After a fair amount of time, everyone was on their way home other than the members of Nona's entourage and the FBI agents. Taking initiative of their own, Hurtz and Lockwood checked with as many neighbors as they could to find out if anyone had seen Nona in the company of strangers. Donovan, Ashcroft, and Lily remained inside with the principals. Only after the guests were dismissed did Donovan grant Nona's people permission to call the police.

Ashcroft told Lily earlier that the house had three bathrooms in it, but only two were accessible by guests. She checked them both herself, but found nothing incriminating within. Although she had looked for superficial evidence, she would leave it for the CSI team of the Miami PD to do more of a thorough job. However, there was nothing there. The CSI team wouldn't have needed to be summoned at all if it wasn't warranted. They had lead of the case, but it was truly up to the PD to decide whether or not the house had become a crime scene.

"It was up to you people to keep Nona safe. What the hell happened here tonight?"

Donovan stared into the eyes of Nona's girlfriend. He supposed she picked him to direct her anger toward, since it was his idea they wait to call the police. Now she was after her pound of flesh. He hated the way this had happened, and he knew they had their share of blame, but the negotiator side of himself wanted to explain that sometimes bad things happen regardless how well they were in control of a situation. This woman did not want to hear that, she wasn't ready to hear it, in fact. How many parents or loved ones of abducted individuals felt the need to lay all the blame at his door? How many would understand that he felt like kicking himself as well? He opened his mouth to respond when someone else did it for him.

"Miss," Jack Ashcroft's raspy voice said. "All the proper precautions were put into place." Using a version of Donovan's earlier words, he continued, "There was no way to have controlled this situation. We cannot guarantee."

Lana, all of five feet two inches tall, turned toward him, glowering up at his face. "Desperate words of somebody who has fucked up." She focused her hatred filled glare toward Lily, before settling her eyes on Rachel. "I told her not to come to this bullshit." Back to Donovan. "If anything happens to her, you all will have to answer to me."

She made a lunge at Donovan, but Max was there to take hold of her. Dragging her along, she continued to spit, curse, and scream at the agents in attendance. He had sympathy for her, but they did not have time for hysterics.

Counting on Lily, he approached her. "Stay close to her. Keep her calm. The police will be here shortly and she doesn't need to interfere. If she causes trouble, escort her away."

"Got it," she said and headed toward them.

Rachel stood alone, leaning dazedly against a buffet table. She had hired a catering company to tend to the guests and they milled about almost silently, cleaning up the mess. She had basically forgotten to ask Donovan if they should be sent away as well. Every now and again, she played with the pearls at her neck. She didn't know someone was watching.

In the distance, Donovan could hear the wail of sirens approaching, likely disturbing everyone in the quiet neighborhood. Although he wanted to be as close to the police as possible during this end of it, he also could not tear his eyes off Rachel. Knowing it was not his home, it was not his place, he still wanted to talk to her, offer some comfort. His eyes went in search of Ashcroft, and he noticed that he was keeping pretty much as far as away from her as he could. He stayed in the house only a few moments before he went outside to gather up Hurtz and Lockwood. Now wasn't the time to treat her shabbily. Now was the time for him to do what should have been old hat. Cursing under his breath, Donovan made his way toward Rachel.

At first, he didn't speak to her. He waited to see if she was going to jump at the chance to blame him for this, to blame him for dragging her into something she wasn't ready to be a part of just yet. She didn't. She stood silently fingering her pearls. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it tightly when she shook her head.

"It's funny," she said with a bitter laugh. "These pearls are the first piece of jewelry I bought myself when I landed my first job after law school. I thought they would make me look smart, classy."

He thought about what he wanted to say next, all the while listening to the police cruisers coming to a halt outside. Hopefully the agents outside would clue them in, insuring they brought along a CSI team before they set foot into the house. After all, they had done all the interviews.

When they were together, he once thought of buying her a set of pearls as a birthday gift. Instead, he bypassed them for something else. With a pang, he realized he should have gotten them. She would be wearing them tonight instead of a piece she bought for herself. Why was that thought so important to him now?

"You never needed pearls for that, Rachel," he said before truly understanding what would come out of his mouth the moment he opened it.

"You don't have to be nice to me, you know," she said.

She focused her eyes on his face, her dark, dark sapphire eyes. She wasn't yet crying, but her tears weren't far away. "I know." He was about to say more, to try to reason with her, tell her it wasn't her fault, but it was no use.

"I think they need you," she said, nodding toward the police officers who were entering with Hurtz and Lockwood flanking them.

He wanted to say that, perhaps, she needed him more at the moment. He didn't. It was her way of dismissing him for other things he needed to do. It was an old tactic, one she used plenty when they were together. "Do you want me to find Jack?"

"No," she said. "I don't think he wants to talk to me right now."

Speaking of him made Donovan wonder where the hell he had gone. Shaking the thought away, he gave Rachel a brief nod before approaching the two junior agents on their team. He allowed Hurtz to stay with the Miami cops, but he managed to get Lockwood's attention before he followed suit. Lockwood, who was short in stature, was physically dark and intense.

"Anything from the neighbors?"

"Just one of them. Her name is Adele Peterson. Earlier, she was out walking her poodle. She said she saw three people donning waiter outfits walking toward a dark colored SUV. The thing is, this neighborhood is filled with dark SUVs. I counted twelve on one block alone. She said it appeared as if one of the waiters was drunk."

The information tweaked Donovan's nerves. He didn't like it. "Could she identify them?"

Lockwood shook his head. "No. She wears Coke bottled lenses, which she wasn't wearing. All of them had on caps, like the catering staff in the kitchen here in the house. When I asked if she could see the hair lengths on all three, she said she could easily enough to tell. One had long hair, but it was red. The other two had short hair."

Nona Pope's hair was long, thick, and black. No one had time to have dyed it, but there may have been time to cut it with very sharp shears. Donovan still didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. "All right. Check with the caterers here, find out who was working and if any staff went missing."

Donovan turned toward the front door, noticing Jack Ashcroft as he entered. "Where have you been?"

"Not that I should answer to you, Donovan, but since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I was outside calming down my neighbor. She said somebody was asking questions, and she was patently freaked out about it."

Donovan realized that his words had an accusatory tone to them. He wasn't afraid that Ashcroft was outside goofing off, but he should have stayed inside to at least offer comfort to Rachel, even if they had been fighting. He was ready to tell him to man up, get over his anger, and take care of business, not just FBI business, either. Instead, he said, "I wasn't asking in the capacity you're implying, Jack. I simply don't want another person to go missing."

Donovan treasured his ability to maintain a solid poker face. Tonight, however, he was doing a piss poor job of it. "Whatever you say."

"Look," Donovan began pointedly. "How often do we have to have this conversation?"

"I don't know, Frank," Ashcroft said with a smile. He noticed the instant Donovan used 'Jack' again. He had been using it a lot lately, so perhaps he was plenty pissed at him. Good, because the feeling was mutual. "How many times do you intend to fan the old flame?"

"Do we think we can cut the shit for a few hours," Donovan said.

"I can," he said evenly. "Can you?"

Without missing a beat of his cocky walk, Ashcroft moved away from Donovan in search of something else to do. Anything would do, as long as it kept him away from Rachel and Donovan for a few hours.

It was close to midnight before the last police officer left the house. The FBI agents were the last remaining people, but they soon separated and left. Hurtz and Lockwood were the first. They were the tactical members of the squad and needed to help plan the next phase of their investigation if the news regarding Nona Pope was not good. Lily, Ashcroft, and Donovan straggled behind.

Rachel had changed into sweats and a loose fitting tee-shirt. She was surprised to note that Ashcroft had stayed behind. He stood in the kitchen, drinking cup after cup of strong coffee. She saw that Donovan was in the living room with the female agent of their group, whom she thought was named after a type of flower. At first, she couldn't think of it. She wanted to say Iris, but stupidly shook it away. _Hers_ was Iris. The other woman was Lily, the flower that women were known to have held in their hands at burial.

Looking past them, she took hold of Ashcroft's arm. He didn't look her way. "Can we talk?"

"No time for that tonight," he said distractedly. "I have to go in and flush out some work details." He turned to look at her, giving her an odd wink. "Super spy stuff, babe. I could tell you about it, of course. What is it that they say in the movies?" He tapped his forehead as if waiting for the words to come. "Oh yeah. If I told you I would have to kill you or some cheesy shit like that."

They had been plenty angry with each other over the span of their relationship. Never like this. He was being completely mean. "Jesus, Jack. You can give me five minutes."

He shook his head. "No. I don't think I can."

Donovan watched as Ashcroft pushed his way out of the house. Lily hung back with him for a moment. "I think you should go home," he told her. "We may be burning the midnight oil soon enough. Get some rest while you can."

Lily wasn't the jealous kind, and was certain that she had nothing to fear from Ashcroft's girlfriend, but something seemed off. After a moment, she realized that he was trying to get rid of her. She didn't understand the dynamic and surely intended to ask him about it sooner rather than later. "No problem," she said. "See you in the morning."

When she left the house, he entered the kitchen where Rachel had primly set Ashcroft's used mug in the sink. Dressed the way she was, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, she looked more like a college student than someone almost fifteen years out of it.

"I thought you left already," she said.

"No. Ask anyone, I'm the last to leave a scene." He had meant the statement to be light, but immediately sensed it was way out of context. However, it was too late to take it back.

"I would," she said with a shaky laugh. "But no one is really speaking to me right now. Just you. I'm sure before the week is out, you won't be speaking to me, either." She turned around to look at him. "I didn't tell him much. He found my cell phone and saw the last person I called was you. I have no idea why he did it, he has never done that before."

She was pitiful, profoundly sad. There was nothing he could do to fix it. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

"Yeah, so am I." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Now, it's weird for you at work, huh?"

"It is," he said. "Jack is a professional. He won't let anything interfere with what we need to do." He didn't know if that was the truth or not, he only hoped it to be. "Soon everything will be back to normal. I know we've both told him it's over, he'll accept it and move on."

"I have to be honest with you, Frank. I thought it was over, but things have been popping in my head more than usual."

He could have lied and said nothing of the sort was the same way. He couldn't. "Me too," he admitted. "I think it's only because of a few circumstances beyond our control. When everything normalizes, we'll simply go back to our corners. We've co-existed this long happily, I assume we will continue that trend."

"Yeah." Yet, she felt something was wrong with that analysis, as fine as it was. Could they both call it a _happy_ existence? "I don't know whether Jack and I will get back to normal, though. It's not your problem, it's nothing you have created." Changing the subject rather quickly, she asked, "The female agent? Lily, is it? You're with her, right?"

He noticed the shift in their conversation. Since she had gone through a hell of a night, he wouldn't mention it. "Yes."

She smiled. "I thought so. It's in the way she looks at you." Switching gears, because she really didn't want to get into it with him, she said, "I think you should go. You don't need to hang around. I'll be all right. I do hope you find Nona, and I hope she's just one of those kooky rock stars playing a horrible prank."

Although he was almost certain that wouldn't be the case, she was in no shape to hear it tonight. "So do I."

It was awkward between them now for many reasons. All Rachel knew was that she wanted him out of her house. She couldn't look at him anymore. Slowly, she approached him, took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Wilson."

He smiled. "Don't mention it, Iris."

It began innocently enough. She squeezed his hand, thanked him, and then did what she had done numerous times to other men she had known since moving in with Jack. She leaned forward to place a dry peck on his cheek. She managed that part of it with no issue. He even leaned down a bit in expectation of it. The instant her lips touched his cheek, something changed. She caught a whiff of his cologne, he caught one of her perfume. Neither of them had an inkling of an idea that they wore the same cologne and perfume as they had years ago, but they were the types of individuals who did not embrace change as much as they would have liked for their loved ones to believe.

Slowly, Rachel drew away, but did not release his hand. She gazed into the face of a man who looked so different than the one she knew before. He was still the same inside, with the same eyes, the same way of conveying his moods effectively through them. Before long, her lips were pressed firmly to his. The taste of him was the same, as were the softness of his lips, the firmness of his body. The same thoughts sprung into Donovan's head as well, stunning him with their ferocity. Later, neither of them would be able to answer the question who kissed whom first.

Within a mere few moments, Rachel moved away. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Donovan said nothing. Instead, he left while he was still able.

* * *

It was almost three before Donovan finally made it home-if his tiny apartment could be called that. After leaving Rachel standing in her kitchen, he drove for a while, with the windows down, hoping that the salty night air would clear his head. It didn't. Since it was so late [or early, depending on how he looked at it], the parking lot was almost full, most of the closer spaces were filled. It took some time to finally find an available slot. He walked toward the building slowly, savoring the night, allowing it to cloak him.

When he finally sauntered up to the door, he thought that since it was so late, he would probably have to use his card key. His building, although gated, wasn't exclusive. All residents had to have a card key and gate code if they were out past two. There was a concierge desk in the lobby. Despite that, during the week, it wasn't manned around the clock. If a guest happened to come by, they were required to have a code to unlock the front gate. If they arrived any time after two in the morning, they wouldn't likely see the person until a security guard came on duty at four and let them in. Those unfortunate enough to lose their card keys or forget the code were charged an excessive amount of money to cover changed locks and recoding of the keypad at the gate. Since moving to Miami, Donovan had yet to be in that class, and certainly didn't intend to be any time soon.

Checking behind him for good measure, he swiped his card and patiently waited for the loud click indicating he was being granted entrance. He stepped into the lobby, and saw Lily sitting near the concierge desk on one of five uncomfortable sofas decorating the room. The moment she noticed him, she stood up to approach him.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, completely not expecting to see her until later.

She shrugged. "I don't know, long enough to listen to Bruce discussing his many grandkids."

Bruce was a retired Miami police officer who pulled the late afternoon shift at the desk. He had seven children, all but two had at least five of their own. His youngest were still in college and childless as far as Donovan knew. "You should have gone home. You might not see your bed for a while."

She shrugged again. "Who cares? I like yours better anyway."

Donovan was grateful for her presence. It was just that right now, he didn't want company. He wasn't quite fit for human consumption. "I'm glad you're here, Lily. I'm grateful you came by-"

Lily raised her hands in contrition. "But you want to be alone?" When he didn't answer immediately, she smiled. "It's okay. I'm antisocial at times as well. I just sensed something weird tonight. Other than a missing rock star."

He didn't know if he was ready to tell her about the mess enveloping him right now. The issue was, he truly didn't have anyone to talk to about it, no one who might care. He certainly couldn't have gone back to Rachel, no matter how much he might have wanted to. "I suppose you noticed that it has been tense between Jack and me?"

"Well, duh," she said, miming whacking herself on her forehead. "Not only that. I sensed a few awkward moments between you and Jack's girlfriend."

Leave it to another woman to sense tension in a different woman. It was enough to make him crave a shot of vodka. "You're right," he finally admitted. "I knew Rachel long before I came here. Jack didn't know. When he found out, he was less than pleased."

She shook her head. "Knew her? Oh. You mean knew her in the biblical sense? I knew it had to be something like that." Lily went back to the ugly lobby sofa and plopped back down. "You stay close mouthed about things, finally open up, and _really_ drop a bomb."

Donovan kept his distance for a moment. He pushed himself to sit next to her, bridge the gap. It took a long time, but he finally did it. "I didn't think it was important."

"It's funny, Donovan," Lily began. "I've been flirting with you like mad ever since I met you. It just now dawned on me that you only asked me out seriously after Aspen Greene's death. I noticed her wall, I saw she was buddies with Aspen."

"It's not what you think," he began lamely. _Wasn't_ it?

"She still wants you, you know," she said.

"What?"

She wanted to slap the bewildered expression off his face. Men were so dumb sometimes. "You heard me. She still wants you. Women _know_, Frank. Should you figure out who it is you want, you know where to find me."

She made an attempt to get up, not before he tried to stop her by planting his hand firmly on her thigh. "Lily, wait…"

Lily batted his hand aside. Standing, she walked toward the door, stopping just mere inches from it, thereby almost completely exiting the building. Turning toward him, she asked, "For what? For you? I have been waiting, Frank, for months. I'll see you later at work."

* * *

Before the drama, before the harrowing scenes between this group of individuals occurred, something else happened in the city. The larynx of Nona Pope had been excised. Unfortunately, she was conscious during it.

* * *

When his cell phone began to ring, Donovan thought he was dreaming. It rang and rang, then stopped. Blessed silence. Then it began ringing again. That signaled his sleeping brain he wasn't dreaming. He rolled over and grabbed it without opening his eyes. Until he noticed who was calling, he was intent on shutting it off. The moment he saw it was Jess Lockwood, it was as if a shot of adrenaline had made its way to his heart.

"Donovan," he said tersely, ready for anything.

"Bad news."

He glanced at his bedside clock. It was almost six. Donovan sat up in bed and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Where?"

"Her body was found in a hut on a private resort outside Miami. The owners heard a noise in an abandoned cottage. When they checked, they found a body. I got a call maybe half an hour ago."

Donovan swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump that had formed in his throat. Knowing the MO of the murders, he asked, "What went missing?"

"Her larynx. We first thought her hair was as well, but the local police squad found her hair on the beach. It was bundled up neatly in a hot pink ribbon."

"Thank you, Lockwood. Have you called the others?"

"Not yet. I can if you would like," he offered.

No matter how much Donovan would have liked to accept, he didn't. It was his news to pass along. It appeared as if they would make a trip to the scene later. "No. I'll do it."

Nona Pope was dead. Donovan couldn't help but think he was responsible.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Rachel slept poorly after Donovan left. When she finally found it, sleep was light and fitful. Toward daybreak, she was awakened by the shuffling sound people make when they're trying hard not to waken their partner's slumber. It didn't matter anyway, she knew it was Ashcroft as soon as she caught a whiff of his aftershave. She sat straight up in bed, bringing her knees up close to her chest. He took little notice of her. He had apparently taken a shower in one of the other bathrooms, but of course, had to find fresh clothing in the master bedroom. As of today, they still shared the house, and the bed. For how long that was to be so, she had no clear idea. She watched him move around the room, beads of moisture standing out on his dark chest. All he wore was a pair of shorts that were part brief, part boxer. He didn't appear to be packing up permanently, though she noticed a suitcase sitting open on the settee at the foot of the bed. Rachel waited for a very long time, simply watching him move about the quiet way he did.

Finally, she had had enough. "What are you doing," she finally asked.

"What does it look like," he asked shortly, without missing a beat. "I'm packing."

"Where are you going?"

"What does it matter?"

She groaned aloud. She threw the covers back off the bed and brought herself up to her feet quickly. She had all but forgotten she fell into bed wearing her clothes from last night. "I'm sick of the shit, Jack. Can we please get past this?"

He stopped packing for a few moments to burn his eyes into her. "Maybe when things are more settled, we can have a session. As soon as Lily gets here with Donovan, I have to go."

Resigned, she sighed. "Fine. Can you at least tell me where you're going?"

"Favron Resort."

Rachel had heard of many resorts in her life, but not that one. "Why?"

"It's where Nona Pope's body was found."

Shocked, she didn't know what was worse. Was it the cold, antiseptic way he told her? Was it the fact she had hoped beyond hope that Nona was still alive? Was she marginally upset that Donovan hadn't told her first? Rachel couldn't put her finger on it. All she knew for certain was the news was bad. It would be heartbreaking for her girlfriend and her publicist. It was completely devastating to her. She had barely known the singer, having met her perhaps a half dozen times. What made it worse was that Nona Pope had been abducted from her house. Was she more angry at Ashcroft for telling her like this or Nona Pope herself for coming to the memorial? Having it seemed to be the right thing to do at the time. In hindsight, she wished a thousand times she had never held the memorial. If she hadn't, Nona Pope would be alive.

Ashcroft seemed oblivious to the way he broke the news to Rachel. He seemed not to care. He waited for approximately five minutes, gave up on a more vocal reaction, and then he proceeded to continue packing. When he finished approximately fifteen minutes later, Rachel stood in the same spot with the same expression on her face. He was too angry to say goodbye. Without a further word her way, he left to wait for Donovan and Lily.

The slam of the front door brought Rachel out of her daze. She made a decision right then, one that might lead to an ending she certainly wasn't prepared for, but she didn't care. She dressed as hurriedly as she could, just in time to see a dark SUV pulling away from the curb.

Later, at a rest stop fifteen miles from Favron Resort, the five members of the TSK UC taskforce took a brief detour for a short break. Donovan looked around for any eavesdroppers. He had had to prepare early for the trip, not having had enough time to call Rachel with the news about Nona. When he saw that he was alone for the moment, he dialed Rachel's cell. It immediately went to voice mail. Annoyed, he tried the number again. When it went to voice mail again, he left a brief message simply asking her to call. What he didn't know was that Rachel would not look at her phone for several hours.

* * *

Favron Resort, was by all standards old, rotting, and cheesy. Most couples who came only stayed for a few hours at time. It was a favored spot on weekends by methamphetamine freaks who needed some time alone with the pipe. It consisted of three rows of five attached huts on the beach. Basically, it was like a motel with better scenery. It was owned by a retired couple who were in over their heads and couldn't keep the property maintained. As soon as the TSK taskforce arrived, they were told that the wife of the property owner was who discovered the body. Her husband had had to drive her to the city and admit her to the hospital. The gruesome scene had induced a heart attack.

They were there UC, of course, and had to create back stories. As soon as they were told where to set up, Donovan dived into his hut for a quick change of clothing. He donned baggy blue jean shorts, a sleeveless tee-shirt, and thong sandals. He tied back his hair into a loose ponytail and covered the top of his head with a faded bandana. After checking in with the rest of the crew, Donovan took the opportunity to drive into town to meet the Favrons.

After arriving at the hospital, which was more like a community medical center, Donovan received some curious glances when he asked to see Danica Favron. Most folks around the area probably knew the family well, figuring that none of them could possibly be related to a hippie guy from Miami. On any other day, it might have been funny.

Donovan found Danica Favron's room. He saw that the door was open, but he heard the couple before he saw them. They were clearly arguing about something, with Mrs. Favron louder than her husband. Afraid to be yelled at for interrupting their argument, Donovan rapped on the doorway with his knuckle. He was greeted by an indignant curse, quickly followed by Ricky Favron apologizing profusely for his wife.

"Who are you," Danica Favron demanded. "You sure as shit ain't no doctor."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Donovan began. "I'm Frank Donovan from the Miami FBI office. You may have spoken to Jess Lockwood."

Two sets of brilliant blue eyes stared up at him. They probably didn't believe he was who he said he was, but his badge was handy if they wanted to see it. Danica Favron was probably around seventy, her husband perhaps five years older, although they both looked years younger. Mrs. Favron still had a great deal of black hair on her head. Her husband, who was mostly gray, had probably once been a red head.

"I've been telling my stubborn husband that I'm fine. It wasn't a heart attack. What is it that you need, Mr. Dunnavint?"

"Danica," Mr. Favron said gently. "He said Donovan."

"Oh, like it matters," she said crankily. "Get me out of here, and I might remember his name better. What can I do for you?"

"You were the one to find the body this morning," he asked gently, unsure as to how quickly he needed to get into it.

She put her hand over her heart. "Dear lawd, yes," she began. Her husband started to protest at the line of questioning, but she waved her hand toward him. "Shush, Rick. Yes, I was the one. I done told that other gent that I didn't see anything. I just heard a ruckus. By the time I got to the hut, there was nothing left, just a body."

"Me and the wife are trying to sell the place, Mr. Donovan," Rick Favron said. "As you all can see, it's not what it was when we bought it. So when we get a call about noise at the place or a break-in, we don't rush over. Bad people hang out there."

Donovan could certainly agree with that. Their hired help had shown the team to their huts, saying they had picked the best out of the bunch. Honestly, it wasn't saying much. "I know we don't intend to stay long. I can assure you that as long as we have a presence there, you won't have to worry about anything else happening."

"We sure appreciate that," Mrs. Favron said.

"We'll stay in touch," Donovan promised.

After leaving the hospital, his next stop was the local police department. He knew from Lockwood's call that they had collected evidence in the hut where Nona Pope likely died. The community where Favron was located wasn't large. He had seen enough at the hospital to know. Their police department wasn't any larger. It was housed in a two story red brick building with two or three cruisers parked in front of it. Next door to it was an even smaller place labeled as the city hall.

Donovan found only one parking slot for visitors near the police department. As he made his way to the building, he was met by a few more stares. He ignored all those who stared at him and walked on into the PD. He was greeted by a dispatcher, who asked to see his badge before she would allow him entrance to see their only two detectives. He was shown into a small office littered with half a dozen filing cabinets. The room was cluttered with various wanted posters hanging haphazardly on the wall. The desk looked as if it came from an era fifty years in the past. The chair parked in front of it was leather, but the stuffing was leaking out of numerous slits in the material. The one he sat on was hard, flat, and made out of metal. He didn't want to judge anyone or say anything about it, yet it was hard not to. He honestly had to admit that the entire scene reminded him of an old TV program.

"Agent Donovan?"

He turned toward the doorway to see a trim young man dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants. He wore a gun neatly tucked into a belt holster. Donovan attempted to stand to shake his hand, but he didn't have time. The fellow walked around his desk and sat down. His chair screeched under his weight due to its decrepit condition.

"I'm Detective Sumner. My partner and I were called out to Favron Resort this morning. I understand you want to view the evidence we collected?"

Sumner had dark hair, a long face, and very dark eyes. He focused them on Donovan's face, instantly emitting a protective vibe when it came to the evidence. "Yes, that is correct. Our office believes that Ms. Pope was a victim of a serial killer we have been tracking for some time. I would like to see what you have."

The other man smiled his way. It was fake, a small town politic smile was the only way to describe it. "You understand that we have jurisdiction over this case."

"You do until we determine who was responsible. When the time comes, our office will supersede your jurisdiction," Donovan explained calmly. He understood completely. This was probably the biggest case Sumner had ever seen. Donovan respected their boundaries, but he wouldn't allow a killer to flee that was connected to TSK. "I know your office is aware of the ongoing Souvenir Killer case."

Sumner laughed. It was as cold and as medicinal as his smile. "Of course we are, Agent Donovan. However, we have not ascertained if this murder has anything to do with it. That is, other than what your friend Agent Lockwood passed along to us. It could have easily been a copycat."

Donovan took a deep breath. He did not want to have a pissing match with the detective. "Again, I respect your boundaries, Detective Sumner. I simply need to look at the evidence you collected. I would also like to examine the body of Nona Pope. I understand she has been taken to a local funeral home until she is sent to the ME."

"Yes sir, you got that correct. I'll page our evidence tech and have her take you on to see the evidence. She can also take you to the funeral home."

Without another word, Sumner contacted Violet Moyer, who was their lone CSI agent. Moyer was a middle aged lady who seemed like a no nonsense type of person. She was the complete opposite of her colleague. She seemed quite interested in the TSK case and told him in strict confidence that she fully believed Nona Pope was a victim of the serial killer plaguing Donovan's territory. Unfortunately, there was not much evidence collected. What existed were a few synthetic hairs from a red wig, along with the hair cut away from Nona Pope's head. Donovan made note of it before Moyer announced that they needed to get to the funeral home '_pronto_' before the ME's assistant came to take her body back to Dade County.

Viewing a victim of violence was something Donovan rarely did. Since they were certain she was murdered by TSK and taken into another town, it was necessary. It would be up to Donovan's superiors to notify the small town of Springville that Miami FBI were taking jurisdiction. He was certain that Stephen Sumner would likely be supremely pissed.

The body of Nona Pope had been cleaned, any evidence on her person collected, and the gaping hole in her throat covered with a large bandage. Although her killer had cut away her hair, it had been collected with the other evidence. She seemed at peace. What horror had she seen before she died? Donovan had donned surgical gloves before entering. Despite that, he had no intention of touching her. The FBI failed her. She should not have seen such a horrid end.

"My daughter loved her music," Violet Moyer said. "I never got it, but she did have a pretty voice."

"There was little to no trace evidence, I understand," Donovan began. "How did the hut look?"

"It was clean. Really clean, other than what you saw," she said. "I've been doing this job for twenty years. I've never seen a place so organized. If you ask me, it was some folks who knew what they were doing."

It was an angle they had explored, but Donovan was surprised at her inference. "You mean someone who knows about the law?"

"Either that or they watch a lot of cop shows on TV," she said with a sardonic laugh. "It's unfortunate, she was so young and beautiful. What I can do for you, if you would like, is write up a report stating that I believe it fits the MO of the guys you're looking for."

Donovan's eyebrow went up. "Guys?"

"Yeah. I think it had to be more than one person to get everything in order like that. I know Sumner out ranks me, but the Chief of Police loves me."

She said the last bit with a wicked gleam of an eye. Donovan liked her immediately. He almost told her to apply for a job at his office. He figured she would turn him down. Springville was her home. "Thank you for your help. I'll leave my number with you."

* * *

As Donovan was examining the evidence and viewing the body of Nona Pope, the other agents were busily setting up shop at the resort. They each had their own hut and another set up as a meeting room. They didn't intend on staying longer than two days, so none of them had packed much.

In one hut, Lily sat alone with her laptop. The room was equipped with a table and chair, but the table wobbled crazily, and the chair was rickety. After sitting there for a few seconds, she gave up, carrying her laptop over to the bed. It seemed to be in good shape, the kind that didn't have slats. She was fairly certain it wouldn't cave in with her. For a decent amount of time, she tried to concentrate on work. Donovan wouldn't be back for a while and the other guys were busy. There really wasn't much to do until he came back with information regarding evidence found at the scene. Earlier, they had checked the inside of the hut where Nona's body was found. It was spotless.

"Unbelievable," Lily whispered.

She was about to begin typing up her case notes when a knock came at her door. At first, she thought it was Donovan. When checking her watch, she realized that he had only been absent for about an hour. There was no way he had already made it back to the resort. The thought almost forced her to ignore the insistent rapping. It was no use hiding inside the hut. Everyone knew she was in here with nothing to do or anywhere to go. It wasn't like she could just head on out to Dobson's for a strawberry lemonade.

"I'm coming," she cried in annoyance. She was surprised to see that her guest was Ashcroft. "What do you want?"

Ignoring her comment, he came into her hut. "Nice to see you, too."

She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him. She saw that he chose to sit in the rickety chair at the table. It must have been stronger than she thought. Jack Ashcroft definitely outweighed her by sixty pounds or more. "Do you have anything to share?"

"Not case wise," he said. "Have you been messing around with Donovan?" Her blank stare was answer enough. He laughed. "I suppose your silence is golden. You did know he was with my girl before, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said shortly. "He told me."

"You don't like it much, do you?"

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I couldn't give a tin shit, Jack. I gave Donovan his wings to fly if she is someone he wants."

He laughed again. "In other words, you don't like it. Neither do I. We have to work together, so there isn't much either of us can do about it now."

"You're right about that," she said, agreeing with him. She went over to the bed and sat down.

"It's no fun being the third wheel, is it? I think after this assignment ends, I'm asking for a transfer. I don't know if I can continue to work with him knowing how close he was to her. What are you going to do?"

"Beats me, Jack. I can't see past this case just yet. Ask me when it's over. Perhaps I will have a different answer."

"I have a great idea."

* * *

Donovan returned to the resort some time later. He went immediately to his hut to remove the bandana. It was irritating as hell. When he gave himself time to process all he had seen or read today, he would ask to meet with the others. He didn't think they would have any trouble seeking jurisdiction with this. It was a matter of time. Nona Pope was in a funeral home with a gaping hole in her neck where her larynx once was. Their killer had a habit of taking something from each victim, some item on their person or a body part special to the victim. It didn't take rocket science to figure out that Nona's voice was her most treasured possession.

He was a man in his own little world. When a knock on his door sounded, he nearly shouted with surprise. He didn't know what was making him so damned jumpy lately. Never in his life had he been like this. Steeling himself for anything, he went to the door and opened it. Who he saw and how she was dressed was more of a shock than anything he had had to deal with thus far. Standing outside dressed in blue jean shorts, tank top, and long red wig was Rachel. The wig completely threw him off. It was almost enough to make him lose his cool.

Donovan was shocked enough that he didn't invite her in. She took it upon herself to enter the hut. After she walked past him, he closed the door, locking it for good measure. There were many questions he wanted to ask, but first and foremost would be why she had chosen to wear a long red wig. He didn't think anyone had shared enough about the case with her where she would have known about the red wig. He was almost tempted to yank a strand of the synthetic hair right then to compare with what the Springville police had found earlier. However, there was due time for that.

"What in the hell are you doing here," he asked angrily as soon as he turned toward her.

Rachel had chosen to sit on the foot of the bed. She had prepared for this moment. She intended to jump his case about Nona Pope. He had turned the tables on her, demanding angrily why she had come to him. "Jack told me where you were going. He also said that Nona Pope was found murdered. Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

Thinking quickly, Donovan yanked the red wig off her head, tossing it indifferently into one corner of the room. He was sure she wouldn't touch it after that. It would give him enough time to get a sample. "I called your cell to tell you. You didn't answer."

"That's because I had to speak to my firm about a leave of absence. I haven't looked at my phone since yesterday. I had to come up here to ask you about that."

She looked absolutely pitiful. When he had a moment to give her a second look, he could tell she had been crying. "Where did you park? Jack knows what your car looks like."

He spoke rather matter of fact, telling her something she already knew. "I thought of that," she said. "I'm in a rental. I feel responsible for her death."

Was she venting or giving him some type of confession? Turning down his tone of voice an octave, he grabbed the vacant chair by the table, placing it close to her. Carefully, he sat down, well aware of the noises of protest it made as it accepted his weight. "What do you mean?"

Rachel groaned out loud. "Don't be stupid, Frank. You know what I mean. She was in my house. She was abducted from it and murdered. What do you think I mean, you jackass?"

His mind went back to how she was at the memorial. If she had anything to do with it, she certainly was a good actress. Then again, he recalled what Violet Moyer said. She thought it was someone well versed in the field of law. Rachel was an attorney, which meant she knew what she needed to be successful in her chosen field. She had CIA training as well. It didn't mean she was a killer. He glanced at the wig in the corner of the room, an item she had all but forgotten.

"I told you that what happened cannot be laid at your feet," he said. "You shouldn't have come all this way. You should have stayed at home."

"And I told you I couldn't," she cried, ensuring that she didn't get loud enough for someone else to hear. The walls in the huts were thin. She knew, of course, because she had her own. "I'm staying here at the resort, just far enough away not to rouse suspicion from Jack." She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I wish you had told me. I'm really pissed at you for not."

"What if he saw you coming up? You don't know how to be invisible."

She glared at him. He was back to his stiff work persona again, the side of him that she had always disliked. "Neither do you. What are you trying to portray now, Frank? A middle-aged beach bum? If I didn't know you, I would think you were a Fed trying to play normal. You were never meant to be UC, but you do love it so, don't you?" When he said nothing in response, she continued, "I worked my way through law school doing PI work, did I ever tell you that?"

He didn't know how to gauge her. He didn't want to, not until he had a sample of that wig to compare to the other at the PD. "No, I didn't know that. We had parted ways by then. Remember?"

Rachel shook her head sadly. He certainly knew how to hurt her. "I do."

"What are you getting at, Rachel? You want to do PI work for me? Is that it?"

If it was what she wanted, he would give it to her as long as he could find a way to get rid of her. He had to get the wig to Violet Moyer. She could easily do a comparison. Their squad was small, but she had a microscope in her lab. It would take only a few minutes to identify it. If it was similar, one half of the equation would be solved. As much as it would hurt, he could take her down if she was the guilty party.

"I need to do something, Frank. I can't stand the fact that my friend was murdered. It kills me to think about how Nona was murdered. I feel responsible."

Keeping his poker face, he said, "You can help. I can make it happen. For now, Rachel, I need you to leave. Go back to your room. I'll find you."

She nodded. "Okay, Frank. Whatever it takes. There is something else I need to tell you."

"Okay," he said. "Fine. Later, please. Go back to your room."

Without further discussion, Rachel went to the door, unlocked it, and made her exit. She remembered the wig ten minutes later. By then, it was too late. Donovan had taken it with him back to Springville.

Violet Moyer was somewhat surprised to see Donovan back so soon. However, when he showed her the wig, she suddenly became a staunch professional. Hopefully, it would tell them the news they were waiting for.

* * *

Lily sat up on the side of her bed. She covered her face with her hands. What the hell did she think she was doing? Why the hell had she agreed with Ashcroft that _this_ would be a good idea? Stupid bastard. Yet, she couldn't completely blame him for everything. As the old saying went, 'it takes two to tango.' She supposed a more X-rated version of that saying would be more appropriate. In other words, it takes two to fuck. Yes indeed.

"Don't tell me you're getting shy," Ashcroft said from behind her.

He ran one finger down the small of her back. It tickled, but also felt creepy. Why in the world had she done this? "Jack, what did we just do?"

"What do you think, Lily? We just got revenge."

Ashcroft was a good lover. She couldn't deny that, but he was no Frank Donovan. No wonder his girlfriend still mooned over him. She figured that she would never see Donovan in the same light again. Especially not after this.

"Yeah, I suppose. What are we doing? We should be focused on the case," she insisted. "Hell no. We just jumped into bed here."

"What else is there to do, Lily? Answer that. We can't do anything until Donovan comes back. He's being secretive and protective of his moves. He is not interested in working with us, he wants the case to himself."

She mulled Ashcroft's words over and over again in her head. He was bitterly jealous over a past relationship that may or may not be rekindled. It was that very reason which led him to suggest that they needed to be together to serve something which may have resembled revenge. It was stupid and it was wrong. Still, his words made sense. Donovan was pulling himself into a secretive circle, not including the rest of the team. They were here together to work a case. Despite that, Donovan had inadvertently taken lead.

"When we get back to Miami, I'm going to mention this to our superiors," Ashcroft said.

This made Lily turn toward Ashcroft. "Obsessed much?"

He smiled, it showed his dimples. It was what endeared him to women. "Not really. I'm interested in fair play. That's it. What do you want out of this?"

"For the killing to stop," she whispered. "That's what I want most of all."

* * *

Back at the Springville PD, Violet had examined the two wig samples closely. She would have been the first to admit that she wasn't the best in the CSI business. Regardless of that, she could easily see what was before her. Donovan stood beside her, pacing back and forth every five minutes or so. Normally, it would have unnerved her. Not today. He was a good guy. Impatient, but good.

"What do you think," Donovan asked. He had been waiting for a good amount of time with no answers. It was something he didn't like. "Are they a match?"

She pushed back away from the microscope and caressed the bridge of her nose. She hated this part of the job. Looking at shit wasn't something she normally did. They sent work like this out to Miami. "No, Agent Donovan. I'm afraid they're not. The wig you brought is more high end than the sample we found."

Donovan felt two ways at once. He was glad his hunch about Rachel had been wrong. He was also upset about it. They were back to square one. "Thank you for helping out."

"No problem," she said with a brilliant smile.

"Are you sure you're not interested in moving up to Miami?" he asked with a grin.

"No way," she said waving him off. "I like being the thorn in Sumner's side."

By the time Donovan made it back to the resort, it was almost dark. Thankfully when he arrived at his hut, Rachel was not around. He used the radio function on his cell phone to alert the troops. They needed to meet tonight, discuss his findings, and then try the plan with Lily as bait.

The group met in the hut reserved for strategizing. While Donovan went over the day's findings, he couldn't help but notice a strange grin on Ashcroft's face. It was unsettling to say the least. His eyes fell on Lily next. She was looking at everything but him. It was odd, something that needed to be addressed. Just not now. He failed to go into the fact that he thought a wig belonging to Rachel Sloane was connected to the TSK murders. It would confuse things, make the work relationship with Ashcroft even more strained.

They collectively decided that tomorrow they would leave for home. By the next morning, the FBI would have jurisdiction of this case, tying it into the Miami murders. Donovan had already faxed the office a copy of the statement Violet Moyer drew up on his behalf.

After they dismissed, the others left immediately for their huts to get sleep. However, Lily lingered. Donovan had noticed her strange silence the entire evening. She appeared as if there was something she needed to tell him. He hoped she would not be so bitter and distant as Ashcroft was.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She smoothed her flyaway hair in the back with her hand, leaving it at the nape of her neck. "I just hate the weird vibe now. That's all."

"Do you want to come back with me and talk about it?"

His intentions were pure. Lily sensed that immediately. Yet, her encounter with Ashcroft earlier had made her feel entirely worthless. She had never thought she could be so petty. "No," she said after several minutes of silence. "I think I should go back to my room, go to bed, and sleep my skinny ass off."

She graced him with a wane smile, one that said more than her lips ever could. "Are you sure?"

Nodding, she said, "Yeah. I'm sure."

Since there was a chance a killer lurked amongst them, Donovan walked her back to her hut, they said goodnight at the door, but nothing more. Lily closed the door primly before he could say anything else.

Solemnly, he walked back to his hut. A noise several feet away caught his attention. It sounded like the cries of a very distraught person. He darted into his room quickly, grabbing his shoulder holster and jacket. He threw them both on and cautiously proceeded toward the source of the noise. In the distance, he could see a figure of a woman sitting on the sand. It appeared that she was digging.

Keeping his arm tight and slightly bent toward his weapon, he kept straight ahead. The woman hadn't noticed him. She was completely too upset to do so. He came forward slowly, dragging his feet in the sand. Just before he approached her, she stopped what she was doing as she noticed a man nearing her. She immediately recognized the stance, the way he crept her way.

"I know it's you, Frank," she said within her sobs.

"Rachel? What the hell are you doing," he demanded.

"Keep your voice down," she hissed.

Calming down a few octaves, he moved closer toward her. Whatever she was burying was completely covered up. He sat on the sand near her, blocking her from view in case Ashcroft decided to take a late night stroll. She had either found or purchased one of those plastic shovels children use to play in the sand.

"Why did you take my wig," she asked.

Rachel dropped the shovel near the small mound of sand. She had braided her hair and shoved it under a cap. The way she was dressed, no one would have recognized her. Only Donovan.

Donovan stared at her for a very long time. Not once did she look away from him. Should he tell her? Should he give that much information? "You told me earlier that you had something to tell me. What is it?"

She shook her head. "Oh no you don't. Answer my question first."

He sighed with annoyance. He wasn't ready for the storm that would erupt when he told her why. What the hell? Everything was shot anyway. "It was a red wig. If the killer has a partner, which is what we believe, it was a woman wearing a red wig."

She was completely appalled by his confession. "You cannot be serious? You thought _I_ was involved?"

"What were you burying?" he asked, completely ignoring her indignant response.

"The bucket of bullshit you have been feeding me," she said. "That's what."

She attempted to get up. As soon as she made moves to do so, he grabbed her arm, effectively blocking her attempt. There was hate and venom in her eyes. If she hadn't been so upset, she might have spit in his face. That certainly would have made him release her. Then again, he probably would have held on longer, hurting her in the process.

"Stop it," he whispered severely. "What are you doing? What are you burying?"

"Since you believed me to be a killer, it's evidence," she said sarcastically. "Maybe it's another wig. The _right_ one."

"I'm going to look," he told her. "If you try to run, I will catch you. I will cuff you and throw you into our SUV. Do we understand each other?"

She yanked her arm out of his hand. She crossed her arms and moved back. "Be my guest."

He took the plastic shovel she had discarded and began to dig. She stayed put, believing his threat, and watched him sullenly. It didn't take long to find what she had been trying to hide. It was a small box, the kind that people put peanut brittle in. He lifted the lid, instantly confused and pissed at the same time. The instant he laid his eyes on it, he was completely shocked. It was a shield, one given exclusively to FBI agents.

While Donovan was busily uncovering one of Rachel's secrets, Lily had decided to take a late night walk. Her eyes quickly identified Donovan sitting on the sand with another woman. She couldn't exactly see who the woman was, as her body was partially blocked by his body. She didn't think anything about it, other than the fact that he had clearly decided to move on. Turning around, she quickly walked the other way, toward Jack Ashcroft's room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The FBI shield was more of a surprise than the red wig. For a moment, Donovan didn't know what to say or think. Why was Rachel in possession of a shield? Why did she feel the need to sit here and bury it in the dark? There was one word above all else that he hated, and that word was _why_. He picked up the small metal box and carefully set it beside him. Rachel stayed where she was, occasionally eyeing him suspiciously. For the life of him, he didn't understand why she would dare look at him in such fashion. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but didn't quite know how to begin. Instinctively, he moved quickly, grabbing her wrist tightly in case she had plans to escape.

"Let me go," she hissed at him through clenched teeth.

"Not until we talk about this shield," he said, matching her ire.

Deftly, he grabbed the metal canister and kept a tight grip on her wrist. He managed to stand up, raise her, and hold onto the box at the same time. It was difficult, it took skill. However, it was a skill he was proud to call his own. Not giving her time to protest, he pressed on toward his hut. Rachel had to sludge through the sand to keep up with him. She didn't speak. She knew there was no use. He was going to get answers from her regardless of her reluctance to do so. If anyone could have seen them, the scene might have been amusing. They appeared to be out of some stone aged cartoon. A tall man dragging a woman along behind him to be thrown into his cave. It wasn't funny to either party. The situation had gotten serious within nanoseconds.

Donovan stopped at his door, tucked the canister under his arm, and dug out his key. One handed, he stuck it into the lock, turning it clockwise, until he heard it hitting home. He opened the door and literally swung her inside. Again, if eyes had been on them, it would have appeared to be a very slick dance move. Checking behind him and seeing no one, Donovan walked inside, shutting the door with a bang. Once he knew Rachel had no escape route, he locked the door.

During her swinging trip inside the hut, Rachel had had to hit the bed with her full weight to avoid a tumble onto the floor. She sat at an angle, holding onto the bedspread for dear life. She had good purchase now, so she quickly righted herself. She had no way to escape, no matter how much she sought it. This was a conversation she did not want to have with him right now. It didn't matter. He wanted to have it and have it he would. She watched as he carelessly tossed the metal box onto the room's table. It hit with a solid _plunk. _If the table remained unmarred after that, she would be surprised. The accountant in her head ticked off about two hundred dollars for a replacement table.

He walked toward the table, grabbed the back of its chair, and brutally dragged it forward. He whirled it around, placing it in front of her. His face was red, his lips pursed. She had training, she knew how to get herself out of such jams. She didn't use it. In hindsight, she probably wanted this confrontation to happen. Coming clean at this stage would be awkward no matter how badly she didn't want it to be. She had only seen him this angry once. It was the night he found out she had been recruited for the CIA at the same time as he. As her mother would have said, they had a pure 'coming to Jesus' meeting. It ended with her slamming out the door, seeking a place to sleep for the night.

Donovan plopped down onto the chair, tensing his body slightly, and leaned forward. It gave him the upper hand. She could spit in his face, slap him, or do a number of things. It would not, however, give her an easy exit. "The shield, Rachel. Tell me about the shield."

There had been two things she buried tonight. One of them he hadn't discovered, which was good for her. The other he caught right away. "It's mine."

He smiled very slightly. It wasn't a good smile. It was almost evil, filled with ire, and something else. Was it hurt? Is that what she saw? "No shit, Rachel. I think I figured out _that_ much. Why do you have it?"

She crossed her legs, as well as her arms. It was a move most interrogators knew about. It normally meant the person was completely closed about everything. If he wanted the truth, he would certainly have to work it out of her. She wasn't about to volunteer anything. "Call HQ and find out yourself."

He came forward suddenly, surprising her with his stealth. Before she could take in a breath of satisfaction, he was on her. His hands clamped down on her arms and he pried them apart. Grasping them tightly, he pulled her body forward. There was only mere inches separating them. His nose was almost touching hers. This was something she completely didn't expect him to do. God help her, she came close to screaming her head off. This insane jerk was going to kill her. She was convinced. She had pushed a button that was left untouched far too long. Pushing it had forced the man to dive off the deep end.

"I could do that," he said in a low, severe voice, one reserved for the worst of the worst. "I can also make you tell me. Do you believe that?"

Rachel had to admit that she was terrified. She hadn't been so close to him in a very long time. She could actually feel his breath fanning her face. It was steady, hot. After a moment, she thought for sure he was bluffing. He always prided himself with how he handled tough situations without bluffing. Tonight, he was laying it on thickly. He wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't force her to do anything she didn't want. Perhaps it was his way of getting to the truth where she was involved. Another part of her didn't know what to make of his words. She knew about his time in the CIA. Hell, she had had her own scars from her time there. At times, they had to do things that normally couldn't be done with any of the other factions of the US government. Torture was one way. Had Donovan ever tortured anyone? He had never told her about it. If he was bluffing, she would call it.

"I believe it," she told him, bringing her chin up defiantly. "Go on. Make me."

He almost came unglued at that. Did she think he was bluffing? Oh yes. She was trying to push his buttons. Just like the old days. Nothing about her had changed. He realized with something close to annoyance that his hands had begun to sweat. In a few moments, Rachel would certainly manage to break his hold. If he didn't act fast, she would be gone. His questions would remain unanswered, of course, until he was back in Miami, facing the director demanding to know why Rachel Sloane had a shield. Allowing her to unnerve him was his one mistake.

Within a few seconds, just as he predicted, Rachel broke free from his grasp. She leaned her body to the side, her arm shooting forward. It connected solidly with his mid-section. A sound escaped him as his body flew backward against the chair. If her punch had a bit more force behind it, he probably would have fallen flat on his ass. It distracted him enough where she managed to move away from the bed toward the front door. Jerking his own body to one side, he grabbed a handful of her tee-shirt. She staggered back a few steps, nearly losing her footing. If it had been any other material besides a poly/cotton blend, it would have ripped completely off her body. Stubbornly, she grabbed her shirt and yanked it free. Her hand fell on the knob, she was within a few feet of freedom. She never made it. Donovan came up to his feet quickly. Diving for Rachel's body in what could only be described as a low flying tackle, he took her down to the floor. Her face pressed heavily against the worn wooden surface. She grimaced at the smell of age, dirt, and floor cleaner.

He jerked her arms up behind her as he slowly moved upward, firmly planting his knee into the small of her back. Beneath him, she writhed, spat, and cursed, calling him every dirty name she could think of. It didn't stop him. Taking grand pleasure in her discomfort, he felt an evil grin forming on his lips. If she wanted to play dirty, he certainly could make it worth her while.

"I will help you up if you would like to talk," he began. "I won't trust you, however, so as soon as we're both on our feet, I'm cuffing you. What would you like?"

Her voice was muffled by the floor and the position of her neck. Her cheek was pressed firmly down. "I'd like you to go fuck yourself."

He pushed down hard on her back. She groaned aloud at the force of his knee. "That hurt. Didn't it?" He leaned down a bit, just not enough to give her a chance to fight back. "Now, let's try again. What would you like?"

"_Get off me_!"

Slowly he brought himself to a kneeling position. It was difficult to do so, he had to twist about to do it. Once his knee was safely planted on the floor, he pushed upward with one leg just enough so she was on her knees. "Together, we stand. On three."

One, two, three, both were on their feet again. He walked backward toward the bed. His duffel bag rested close to the side of it. Gripping both wrists in one hand, Donovan leaned down to grab the bag. She could have gotten away if she tried. She didn't. She was either too tired or in some pain. Neither of them were kids anymore. He threw the bag onto the bed. The side compartment was where he kept an extra set of handcuffs along with his Glock. He dug the cuffs out quickly, slapping them onto her wrists from behind. Once she was safely secured, he pushed her backward until she was sitting on the bed again.

"I give up, Donovan," she said tiredly. "It's not necessary to cuff me."

"We tried that once, didn't we? You decided to fight. Simply, Rachel, I don't trust you." He turned away to grab his chair. From behind him, she stuck her tongue out. He dragged it around in front of her. "Now, tell me why you have a shield."

"No one, including Jack, knows this," she began.

"Whatever, Rachel. I don't fucking care. Get to the meat of the story."

Oh yeah, he was angry. He didn't drop many f-bombs unless he was purely upset. "If you know anything about FBI shields, mine is different. It's probably not one you've seen in a while."

"Special division? Is that it?"

She shook her head. "Not even close. Internal Affairs."

"Internal Affairs? Agent wrongdoing?" He didn't understand anything anymore. "How are you qualified for that?"

"Is that all you wanted to know? How I am _qualified_?" She threw back her head and laughed heartily at that. She kept laughing as she looked down and shook her head. "How rich, Donovan. My CIA training got me an 'in,' so to speak. Along with a good cover as an attorney. Works very well together, if you ask me."

Donovan didn't know if he believed her or not. What possessed her to bury her shield? Was someone onto her? He stared at her for a very long time. Her eyes were shining now. She felt she had the upper hand. None of this made sense. "If you're Internal Affairs, what the hell are you doing here? When I saw you tonight, you were burying your shield. Do I need to call the director to find out what you're doing?"

"No," she answered simply. "You don't. I was burying my shield because I'm close to resigning. I didn't want Jack to find the shield. Or you. Or anybody. I don't think I want my job. Not since I was asked to go UC when the Souvenir killings were at their height."

"But you have been an attorney even longer? I'm sorry, Rachel, I don't understand."

The look on Donovan's face was classic. Yet, she was sorry she had hurt him. It was wrong. "I have. I've also been an agent almost as long. I was approached after court several years ago about an opportunity to join IA. A lot of cases in my fields of practice rely on FBI agents. Some of them dirty."

"Your _fields_?" Donovan stood up, paced the room, and mumbled words that Rachel could not make out.

"Yes, Frank, my fields. I do both entertainment and criminal. When the first TSK victim was tied to the entertainment field, I switched exclusively to entertainment law. I was sent in UC to investigate whether or not the FBI has blood on their hands."

Her latter comments stopped Donovan in his tracks. From a few feet away, he glared at her. "What are you saying, Rachel?"

"You know what I'm saying," she said slowly, thoughtfully. "Someone is covering for the crimes. That someone is most likely tied to the FBI."

"You're wrong," he said carefully. "Further, you're cracked in the fucking head if you think for one second that I believe this line of shit you're trying to feed me."

Venom dripped from every word that came out of his mouth. Even when they weren't together, Rachel lied to him. She had been lying this whole time. "You are a brotherhood, just like the police. You refuse to believe one of your brothers is a killer or is hiding a killer's identity."

"Or me," he said. "Am I on your list of dirty FBI agents? Is that why you want out?"

"I'm sorry, Frank," she said softly. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you."

He gnashed his teeth at her. There was no better way to describe it than that. "Aspen Greene? Nona Pope? Was all that an act?"

"No," she said gently. "It wasn't. I still feel very responsible for Nona's death, and I loved Aspen like a member of my family. The guilt I feel is eating at me. Along with-"

He raised his hand in an effort to quiet her. He was clearly not interested in hearing anything else she had to say. "Your short list, Rachel. Name who is on your list of dirty agents," he demanded.

"Again, Frank. I cannot discuss that information with you."

Donovan focused his dark eyes on her. Murder was written in them. "Fuck you," he said bitterly.

He didn't speak to her as he quietly dug out his cuff key. He released her from her steel bonds. When it was done, he stood back with his hands on his hips.

"I suppose that is my cue to leave?" She was trying her best to look up at him, to make him took at her. He didn't.

She didn't move. She stayed seated on the bed, her eyes focused on his face. He didn't want to say anything else to her tonight. Not until he calmed down. She was right, murder _was_ in his eyes. "Get out," he finally said.

Rachel stood to face him. "You asked. I told you. I'm sorry it wasn't what you wanted to hear."

He said nothing else. She shook her head, muttered 'okay,' and stepped out into the night air. Eyes watched her, following her progress from Frank Donovan's room back to hers several yards away. The person standing back watching wondered vaguely if something needed to be done about Rachel Sloane now or later. It possibly wasn't a good idea for now. There was too much heat. Too much to lose. There was work to be done, but it could be completed later.

* * *

The agents packed up their equipment and themselves. It was time to leave Springville, time to get back to Miami. The trip wasn't a fruitless venture. They gathered the information they needed, taking it back with them. Detective Sumner had been notified earlier that his office no longer had jurisdiction. As his lone CSI tech predicted, the news didn't sit well with him. It mattered little to any of them, especially Frank Donovan.

He had slept poorly the night before. His conversation with Rachel made his stomach ache. It had nothing to do with the half hearted punch of hers to his gut. It had everything to do with her confession. He certainly didn't know if he believed her or not. He knew he would ask the upper echelon if this was true. Would he get answers? He didn't know. Frank Donovan wasn't one to let things rest when they were bothering him. This was more or less eating away at his soul. What bothered him more was Rachel's assumption that someone in the FBI was possibly connected to the murders. He couldn't forget the words of Violet Moyer or his own suspicions that it was a duo, one who might know something about the law. Yet, it was patently ludicrous that someone attached to the agency had anything to do with it.

Donovan sat as far back in the seat as he could. Hurtz was behind the wheel this morning. For once, he was grateful to allow someone else to drive. Before closing his eyes, he looked at Ashcroft. He wasn't acknowledging Donovan's existence whatsoever. He sat in his own little world, gazing at the screen of his laptop. Next, he glanced at Lily. She appeared tired and dejected. She seemed to be reviewing the same set of notes over and over again. She seemed to be going out of her way not to look at Ashcroft. Something was obviously going on. Did he want to know? Dare he ask? His eyes settled on Ashcroft again. From his seat, he could only see the side of his face. Donovan wondered if he knew about Rachel's status. He was tempted to bring it up, because he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Instead, he closed his eyes. There was no way he should be sleeping on duty, but it was a long way back to Miami. He hadn't gotten much sleep. The simple fact was, he was going to take a nap. If any of the others didn't like it, he didn't care. Within moments of closing his eyes, he fell into a sound sleep. He was plagued by dreams he couldn't remember upon waking. It made him feel odd, it made him feel as if something was wrong, out of place. Frank Donovan was not a superstitious man. Be that as it may, he felt a wave of something that could best be described as a panicked nausea. There was something coming, something that none of them would like.

* * *

As soon as the group of agents had time to get some sleep and clean up, they were required to meet at the office for the strategy session regarding their decoy operation. Earlier that day, Donovan had heard from his friend, Duane, who agreed to let the agents use his UC business for their operation. However, no one else would know about Duane's DEA ties. They agreed that it would be the best thing to allow Hurtz and Lockwood to pose as gambling agents during one of the kick boxing matches. Donovan would assume the identity of a homeless man on the side street near Duane's place of business. Ashcroft would monitor them from a surveillance van parked a few blocks down. Lily, of course, would be the bait.

Just before they separated to complete the mission, Donovan and Lily shared an awkward moment at the office. She stood in the conference room wearing a long, jet black wig, a sleeveless black dress that left little to the imagination, and heels that elevated her height approximately five inches. She stared curiously at Donovan dressed down in a torn wind breaker jacket, oversized white tee-shirt, shapeless black pants, and a dark wool cap on his head. He looked quite interesting like that. He had forgone his shaving ritual for the day and had a dark shadow of a beard sprouting from his cheeks, leading down his neck. He laughingly told her once that one day of going without a shave would leave him hairy and unkempt. He certainly wasn't kidding.

"Wow," she said with a tired smile. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," he said. "I accomplished my mission. You, on the other hand, seem completely opposite of who you really are."

"That's me, always on the make."

Lily had spoken her last words in a joking tone, but it certainly didn't come out that way. She wanted to open her mouth and come clean about her sleazy encounters with Jack Ashcroft. The words never made it out of her throat. If he didn't want her before, he certainly wouldn't want her now whenever that information made it up to the surface. It was only a matter of time. She knew Ashcroft wanted to tell him that he was sleeping with her. They planned it, to get their own set of at bats.

"Before we leave, Lily, I just want to remind you to be careful out there."

She smiled sadly his way. He said the same words to each of the other agents as they left. If she hadn't already heard them, she might have thought he actually cared about her. "Thanks. Same to you. I think it's time for me to watch my first kick boxing match."

* * *

Donovan shambled down Spicer Avenue, leaning heavily on a warped shopping cart he had found a few blocks away down a deserted alley. He pushed it forward, mumbling to himself, fully amercing himself in his role. Every now and again, he would pull out a clear bottle of liquid, taking long drinks from it. It was only water inside, but he stumbled around as if he were drinking hundred proof moonshine. The street leading to Duane's ring was lit up for a mile or more. It was always like this on the nights the fighters came to prove who was best. He moved forward slowly, yelling back at anyone who threw obscenities his way. Although the untrained eye might believe he was a homeless drunk, he, of course, knew better. His eyes, squinting dramatically, were sharp. He was aware of everyone and everything.

Inside the sprawling building, Hurtz and Lockwood sat in prime seats close to the ring. They placed bets and yelled along with everyone else, cheering their favorite fighters along. They seemed completely focused on the fight. They weren't. Lily paraded around the ring, snaking in and out of rows of testosterone filled men. Some leered her way, others tried touching her. She cursed at them in Spanish, slapping hands, winking where it was warranted. Although her wire was well hidden, it was irritating all the same. Wonder bras and super spy equipment did not mix. She ignored the pinching it gave her boobs and moved on, making her rounds. Watching for someone she didn't know, waiting for someone to abduct her.

Outside in the van, Ashcroft could hear everything going on. Every now and again, the agents checked in with their own versions of codes they selected. Donovan's was 'vodka is my friend,' Hurtz shouted 'eat me, beat me,' Lockwood was fond of 'slam him, Dakota,' and Lily chose 'too hot to trot with you tonight.' Her trouble code was '411, call 911.' So far, she hadn't had to use it. Ashcroft kept sharp, practicing a quiet vigil, while they waited. Surveillance was never an exciting option, but the only trick that helped them in the long run. All hoped it would not be a fruitless venture.

One thing was certain. The pair of killers who were infamously dubbed TSK thought it was quite funny how utterly predictable the FBI were. The only way they would get caught, was if they wanted to be caught. It was as simple as that. Earlier in the day, Holly and Lincoln met to discuss what they wanted to do next. Nona Pope's death had sent shockwaves down the wire. Her people were incensed, threatening to sue the FBI for allowing her to be abducted. It was fun watching the press, hearing the news, listening to the havoc they wreaked. What wasn't fun was the fact that they needed a new victim. Lincoln, although pleased with how they handled Nona Pope, was already bored with celebrities. He wanted to do something else. He wanted to dip into a pool they, as of yet, hadn't touched. Who would be next? They didn't know, but they had their eyes on a couple of options. Holly wanted to follow the agents, watch them work, but Lincoln did not want that. He wanted to let them crawl around, searching. It was all great fun.

* * *

Another incident earlier had almost put a kink in the chain. Just before Ashcroft left home to meet with the other agents, he went back home to pack more clothing. He fully didn't intend on staying with Rachel another day. He was irritated to find her at home when he arrived. Didn't she have a job? Didn't she have something else to do? She watched him solemnly as he took down his big suitcase. At that, she knew he was finally going to leave.

She needed to speak to him about a couple of things. One, of course, was her 'other' job, the one she had confessed about to Donovan earlier. The other would just have to wait. The instant she saw him dragging down his big suitcase, she understood he meant business. Her news would have to wait. She wanted to talk him out of it, but knew she wouldn't.

"So, it's like that?" She asked quietly.

Ashcroft didn't answer her for a very long time. She insisted on following him into the bedroom while he packed. He hated when she shadowed him like that. He packed slowly, pressing his lips into a grim line while he worked. He wanted to be safely packed before he blurt his news. It appeared as if he would have to say something before he was ready to leave. He hadn't planned it that way. Neither of them had.

"I suppose it is," he said without looking at her. "I don't care that you're not fucking him, Rachel. I care that you lied about fucking him in the past. Every time I turned around the other night, you were together. What am I supposed to think?"

"I won't stand in your way, Jack. Especially if you are set to leave. I would like to talk to you first. I have something to tell you."

He turned to look at her. She was dressed in blue jeans and a white sweater. She looked sexy as hell. Any other time, he might have made up with her, worked it out. This wasn't one of those times. "I have something to tell you, too," he said, his onyx eyes twinkling.

She nodded. "Okay. Can we sit down and do this? I don't want to speak to you while you're throwing your clothes into a suitcase."

He laughed and shook his head. "Rachel, this isn't a bull session we're going to have. Forget that." He stopped packing long enough to gaze at her wonderingly. "I'm taking a small break, babe. Just for you. I ask that you let me go first. Is that okay?"

Rachel sighed heavily and clasped her hands together. Her palms were sweaty, she was nervous, and sick at her stomach. She hoped he would suggest she go first, but if he was willing to talk to her, she would give him the opportunity to speak. She only hoped he would decide to stay. "It's fine with me, Jack. Go ahead. You first."

"Awesome." He scratched his head distractedly. "We're through, Rachel. I've been sleeping with Lily Wells the last few days." Her face whitened as the light died in her eyes. Her hopes of reconciliation dashed. "Yeah, babe. That's right."

"She-she is with Frank?"

"Nope, not anymore," he said with a gleam of light in his eyes. For him, it was purely hilarious. For her, it was anything but that. "She's with me. When we went out to Favron Resort, we really hit it off. Lots of people who share something in common do hit it off. I meant to tell you over the phone. I simply thought it would sound better in person. Does it?"

Her hand went to her abdomen. Oh yes. She would definitely have to throw up after this conversation. "How could you be such a cruel ass," she stated incredulously.

"What's cruel about it, Rachel? It couldn't be any more cruel than how I found out about you and Donovan, could it?"

Rachel bit down hard on her lip. She could taste blood. "Good luck."

She turned away from him, barely making it out of the bedroom. Seconds later, he heard her crashing into the bathroom the farthest from the master. He imagined that as her actions indicated, she was being sick right at that moment. He didn't know how he felt about it. He was bitter. The best way to deal with bitterness was revenge. He wondered how Donovan would take the news once he found out?

* * *

An hour later, Rachel appeared at FBI headquarters, in a different building than where the UC unit was housed. She fully intended to resign her position, focusing exclusively on law. She was finished with it. Starting today. However, her superiors refused to accept her resignation. They had given her this case. They would not release her until it was closed.

Disappointed, Rachel left the office. She stood on the city street across from the building. She wondered what she should do next. She walked for two blocks before it hit her. She would solve the case, she would put away the agents who tainted the TSK murders. She had her suspects. She would put them away or die trying. She had no way of knowing she was being watched. She had no way of knowing her name was put on a short list. It wasn't a list like that Donovan demanded to know. It was a victim list. A target was on her back, one she had no way of knowing was there.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was another long night, another fruitless venture. The agents had roamed the streets, the kick boxing ring, and surrounding areas. They had no hits. The one agent in the entire group who felt the most disturbed by this was Donovan. He believed Rachel's view of the whole thing had poisoned his position. He told her he thought it was ridiculous of her and IA to assume another agent was behind these murders. Now, he didn't know. Suddenly, he was looking at everybody, nobody, and those who fell in between. Perhaps Rachel Sloane was on to something. Perhaps the killer was a member of law enforcement, even the FBI.

_Thanks Rachel_, he thought bitterly. It was easy to lay it all at her feet. For all his years working for the feds and the state department, he grew to loathe the IA faction of both agencies. It was easy for them to point the finger at another agent. They weren't out in the trenches investigating cases, risking their lives. None of it. It was easy to hate them. It was easy to hate Rachel. It was easy to hate everyone at this juncture.

After they finished a few hours setting up decoy, they all called it a night. Donovan had sought out Lily to see if she would simply join him later at Dobson's for a quick bite. She begged off, stating that she had other plans. At first, he didn't think anything about it. She was a young woman, beautiful, outgoing, and probably had scads of friends who still hit the bars. Even professional ladies often prowled the club scene. Just when he was convinced that Lily had plans with her friends, Ashcroft entered the room, getting close to Lily, whispering in her ear. Donovan watched them curiously, suddenly realizing that her plans were with Jack Ashcroft. The look on her face told him something different, though. However, he was too stunned to say anything about it. He completely let it go. If she wanted to be with Jack Ashcroft, who was he to tell her he thought the other man was all wrong for her?

It left Donovan feeling more than irritated. Again, he wasn't married to Lily, they had a brief thing, and then there was nothing. It all boiled down to his insistence on hanging near Rachel. But she had shown her true colors, hadn't she? She had been in betrayal mode this whole time. With Lily? He hadn't expected it, but he also couldn't blame her. He had hurt her first.

Donovan went to his car, revved up the engine, and began to drive toward home. It was the only place he wanted to be right now. He didn't want to do anything except dive into his small apartment, pour himself a drink, and then slide into bed, possibly sleeping sixteen hours straight. It sounded like a heavenly plan. He had no interest in returning to the office tomorrow morning to discuss a case that was quickly getting out of hand.

When he parked his car toward the back of the building, his eyes identified a hybrid that didn't belong there. He knew Rachel drove one similar to it. Surely, she wouldn't be here. After what happened between them at Favron Resort, he didn't expect to see her in a private manner whatsoever. She was IA. She had overstepped her bounds and pointed the finger at the agents who actually worked a case. He hoped beyond all scope of the human range of emotions that the hybrid belonged to someone else. Of course, as soon as he entered the lobby, those hopes were quickly dashed.

It was almost twenty minutes before it was time for Bruce to leave. He sat behind the concierge desk, chatting casually with Rachel. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he was positive Bruce was telling Rachel all about his grandchildren. Tonight, she was dressed casually again, and her head was cocked to the side, as if she was really interested in what Bruce had to say. She was good at that, she always had been. Then again, he mused bitterly, turn coats usually were.

Donovan ignored them, hoping that Rachel would sense that he wanted to be alone. He thought if he walked past them without a word, they wouldn't notice. What a fool he was. No sooner did he begin walking toward the stairs, did Bruce notice him.

"Mr. Donovan," Bruce said brightly. "You have a guest."

He stopped just feet away from escape. He had three options. One of them involved simply ignoring Rachel and heading on up to his apartment. The other, of course, was the less attractive approach. He could acknowledge her existence and invite her to come up with him. Then came his third option. He could say a few choice words to her, then ask her to leave. Donovan was in a complete quandary. He had no idea what to do. He was facing her direction and saw her leave the sofa. She walked carefully his way, as if sensing what he really thought and felt. She had a lot of nerve coming to him like this. He needed a shave, shower, stiff drink, and then bed. What he didn't need was spending five minutes alone with her. In his state, he might kill her. Yes. He just might do that.

Rachel was three or four steps away from facing him when she stopped walking. She sensed his anger. Who was she kidding? It was exuding from his pores. She tried speaking to Director Fitzgerald who completely shot her request down. She wanted to tell Donovan this, to let him know she had tried letting go of the case. A part of her wanted to stubbornly insist to him that she thought she was on to something. He hated IA, there was no doubt about that. He simply did not understand she wasn't his enemy. She was far from it.

"I know it's late," she began. "Will you give me five minutes?"

Donovan's eyes flicked from her face to Bruce's. He was a curious fellow, noting that Donovan had had two female guests in a short amount of time. Bruce was a talker, something of a gossip. He shifted his gaze to Rachel. "That will be all I give you. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly fit for company tonight."

She saw that he wore his overcoat. Beneath it was a pair of baggy pants and a tee-shirt. He had an overgrowth of beard. His hair was unkempt and shaggy. He had obviously been working UC tonight. He looked tired, but mostly seemed pissed off. "That's fine, Frank."

Without a glance toward either Rachel or Bruce, Donovan turned and began tromping upstairs. He didn't care whether Rachel was behind him or not. However, he heard the quick rap of her steps. She was in pretty good shape and had no trouble keeping up with his pounding footsteps. He lived on the sixth floor, though, and thought with gleeful malice that he hoped she couldn't make the trip all the way up. Donovan was sadly disappointed when he saw that she was right behind him.

He unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and stalked inside the apartment. Just as he flicked on the overhead fluorescents in the kitchen, Rachel came in and closed the door behind her. Ignoring her for the time being, Donovan went to the drainer, grabbed a glass, and carried it over to the counter. He dug out a bottle of vodka from the freezer and poured himself a stiff drink. He swallowed it down like water as Rachel stood silently nearby, watching him quietly, waiting for him to notice she was still there.

As soon as he drained the glass, he turned to look her way. He held his empty glass up toward her. "You want a drink?"

There was nothing she wanted more, actually, but she couldn't. "No, Donovan. I don't. I still have a long ride ahead of me tonight."

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Whatever you wish." He placed the glass in the sink and walked slowly toward her. "Do you mind if I clean up first?"

"No," she said quietly. "I think you need it."

He said nothing else to her. He simply walked down the hall, turned left, and disappeared into the bathroom. Sighing, Rachel moved further into the apartment to get a quick look around. It wasn't much. It seemed to be something close to what men chose to live in when they first became single again. Her eyes fell on a short shelf in the living area. She saw pictures of Donovan with his sons. She couldn't believe how much they looked like him. Fascinated, she picked up the small photo in its ornate frame. This picture had been taken years ago, probably when he was still in Chicago. His hair was short then, but one thing never changed. His eyes. They were piercing, even in a photograph. No wonder he had made such an accomplished interrogator. One look with those eyes and the world would open up for him.

The only light on in the apartment was that in the kitchen. He likely had turned on the one in his bedroom, but she couldn't see that far down the hall. She moved into the living area and sat on the couch. It was one of those leather pieces often seen in a psychiatrist's office. This one, however, was more comfortable. It was easy to sink down into the cushions. It reminded her of the chair she had at home. She reached out near her to turn on a lamp. The room was then bathed in dim light. She wondered when he would move out of this depressing building. It was antiseptic, cold, nothing like a real home should be. Then again, how much time had he really spent here?

When Donovan finished in the bathroom, he threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and a robe. He made his way toward the living room, noticing that Rachel was sitting on the couch, with one leg curled under her. She always sat like that, and it never ceased to amaze him that her legs never grew numb. If he attempted it, he wouldn't be able to walk normally for an hour or more. She looked his way when he came out, but he didn't immediately join her. Instead, he retrieved his glass, poured another drink, and carried it into the living room.

He sat on the couch with her at the other end. He drank some vodka before focusing his eyes on her face. "What are you doing here? What more is there to say?"

"Dear God, this is weird," she said. "You should really move or get some other furniture."

Yes, it was certainly weird. They hadn't been alone together like this for a very long time. "Other than criticizing the way I live, Rachel, what do you want?"

"I went to see Director Fitzgerald earlier today. I asked to be removed from this case, from this line of work, but he refused my resignation. He felt that if I left at this juncture, we may never find the culprits."

Her words seemed slurred somewhat. He knew she wasn't drinking, but something else was definitely going on. She seemed tired, distracted. "Why didn't you tell me you were working UC, Rachel? I'm angry as hell at you for lying. I'm still somewhat tempted to catapult your ass out of my home."

Thoughtfully, she nodded. Her hand was at the back of her head. Every now and again, he could see her fingering pieces of her hair. "And I wouldn't blame you if you did. If I told you, I would have put the whole operation in jeopardy. I simply didn't know you were on the case until you came to see me."

He banged the glass down onto the coffee table. He did this was such force that some vodka slopped out of the glass and splashed onto the table. "I know now," he said angrily, even though his words came out calmly. "All I would have to do is go see your director and tell him that your case is compromised. He would drop you off it so fast your head would spin clear off your shoulders."

"Frank, if you think it would help, be my guest. I could call him for you, if you'd like. I _want _off it."

"Don't tempt me," he threatened.

She shifted her position on the couch, placing her feet flat on the floor. She scooted close to the edge and folded her fingers together. Her body was bent awkwardly forward. She seemed comfortable despite this. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm also sick of apologizing. You don't understand how much I want this to end. I want it as much as you. Probably more. I'm vested now. Two people relatively close to me have been murdered. Don't you think I want it to be over?"

Donovan said nothing, he kept staring down intently on the spilled vodka. At this, Rachel brought herself up to a standing position. She walked around the table so she could stand directly in front of him.

"Are you going to answer me," she asked huffily.

He slid back, crossed his legs, and glared up her way. "You attorney types and IA people sicken me," he began slowly, his words dripping with venom. "You criticize and analyze every little thing without ever seeing what truly happens behind the scene. In that process, you don't know what it takes. You never did. You never deal with anything that might make your hands dirty. You make deals, you hurt people, but in the end, you just don't give a fuck about the people you represent."

She knew exactly where his hurt was coming from. It was coming from a very young boy whose brother had been brutally murdered by a madman. "Do you want to know who the first person was that I managed to help send to prison?"

Her arms were crossed before her, her eyes were on fire. He had apparently stepped on her toes. Good. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Nothing, Frank. I'm going to tell you, because you have such a low opinion of me right now," she said. "Ramon Rivera. Does the name ring a bell?"

It did. It rang a huge bell. It was one of the men in the gang Donovan had been a part of in his CIA days. It was the same man who shot him down. He didn't know what to say at that point.

"Yes," she said, as if knowing that her words had shut him up for good. "That's right. I was a law clerk for the DA's office. He was arrested for smuggling cocaine. When I was helping the DA dig for evidence, I stumbled upon some. I breached confidentiality, Frank, but I didn't give a shit. This was the guy who almost killed you. This was the guy who made me lose you. I wanted him dead as much as you wanted the man who killed your brother dead."

Rachel turned from him and stomped her way into the kitchen. She found another clean glass and eyed the vodka for a very long time. She wanted it, but really shouldn't drink it. She went to the fridge, opened it, and found orange juice. She poured her own drink. It didn't matter that it was a virgin drink. Anything would do to soothe her throat. She stomped back into the living room, glass in hand, and glared down at him. He sat silently, shocked. Good. She wanted him shocked.

"So, you have nothing to say about that? I damned near went to jail over that. No one ever found out, if they had, I wouldn't have cared. I wanted that son of a bitch prosecuted, sent under the jail. It worked. That's how I first came to the attention of the IA division. They discovered that I could find shit they wanted to know. I didn't want to get a career with that. In a way, I was glad to do it. I thought if I could help in some capacity, I would. I would do anything to help you, for you. Don't you know that?"

When he didn't speak, she shook her head again. Slowly, she walked back around the table to the end of the couch. She sat back down. She finished her juice in one gulp, grimacing as it slid down her throat as if it were particularly strong bourbon. Rachel set the empty glass on the table next to his. Perhaps she should have brought the bottle along with her in case he needed another. She immediately felt the need to go back and grab the vodka, taking her own true drink. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

"I think your girl is with Jack now," she began. "That was my fault, too. If you want my opinion, she's only with him because she's hurt. I really think she cares about you." She took a deep breath, watching him from the corner of her eye. His silence was deafening her. "On that note, I suppose I should go."

Before she could move, he clamped his hand down onto her wrist. "Answer one question," he demanded.

She focused her eyes on his face. He didn't seem angry anymore, just solemn, and so very tired. "If I can."

He might regret what he was about to say, what he was about to do. If that was the case, he would deal with it when it happened. "What about you?"

Her brow furrowed with confusion. "What about me what?"

"Do you care?"

It made her wonder how much was true emotion and how much was vodka fueled. His gaze was sincere, more so than she had seen in some time. "What have I been trying to tell you all night?" She placed her hand on top of his. "I should go," she repeated. "You look tired."

He tightened his grasp on her hand. It stunned him how quickly old feelings could resurface. "I'd like you to stay."

She could flee if she wished. Although he had tightened his grip, it was light enough, more so than the last time he held onto her. "Do you think that would be a good idea?"

He met her question with a slight sardonic grin. "Probably not," he said. "I don't care. I still want you to stay."

For the first time since he came back into her life, she wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, allow him to make love to her. It struck her that they were both lonely, desiring each other to dull the pain from rejection. Jack had left solely based on his own ideas about her relationship with Donovan. Lily had latched onto Jack for the very same reason. Part of her wanted to yank her hand out of his and run away into the night. This was something neither of them needed right now. It would only complicate things in the long run. The night he found her shield, she had another issue to deal with, one she wanted to discuss with him first. She wanted to bring it up again, but she wouldn't. She wanted something else tonight. Tomorrow might be different. Who was she kidding? It would _definitely_ be different.

One speck of resistance dwelled within her. She would give him a chance to escape this if he wanted. "Are you sure?"

"Completely, Rachel," he answered earnestly. "You?"

She chuckled bitterly. "No, I'm not sure about anything." His hand was still in hers. She lifted it up to the center of her chest. "You feel that?"

Her heart was beating hard beneath his hand, her breath had quickened. "Certainly."

"It's telling me I'm sure. You might want to try and knock it into my head."

His hand moved from the middle of her chest, where it cupped her breast gently. "I can try."

The touch of his large hand sent shivers racing down her spine. If she stayed in this position long enough, she might lose her mind. "I'd like you to do just that."

She moved her body toward his, the space between them decreasing until his lips were fully on hers. She figured she would immediately taste the vodka he had consumed just moments ago. She was completely wrong. His lips were warm, his mouth warmer. He tasted heavenly sweet. For a brief moment, she lost herself in his kiss, in his strong embrace.

The tricks the mind played on people were amazing. Rachel remembered little in the next stage of time. She didn't remember Donovan leading her to his bedroom, their lips barely apart for a moment. She couldn't exactly recall who undressed whom. At one moment, both of them were decently covered. At another, they were totally bare. After that, she was aware of every touch, every emotion.

They went to the bed, kneeling before each other. For a long time, they simply gazed at each other, not speaking or moving, only breathing heavily. They kissed again, his tongue entering her mouth, seeking hers, touching it, plundering the depths inside. His hands found her breasts and began a wicked caress. Moaning, she broke the kiss and began moving both their bodies to the bed. She tugged his arm gently. Somehow, she laid back, straightening her legs, pulling his body over hers. Their kiss broken, his tongue made a line down the slope of her throat to the area between her breasts. He suckled each nipple gently, grazing them with this teeth before allowing his mouth to move lower. She felt his lips moving over her rib cage, tickling her, until they settled briefly at her stomach. He dipped his tongue in her navel, going no further. It seemed as if he wanted to love her, but also torture her. He moved his lips upward until they met hers again for another explosive kiss.

She suddenly became aware of his hands, one of which settled on her shoulder. The other moved lower in a caressing touch, lower still until it settled gently between her legs. His wicked caress left her panting against his lips. She would break the kiss, beg him to stop, when he did, she would beg him to continue. This went on until she thought she would lose her mind. He stopped after her hand found him, giving her an opportunity to conduct some torture of her own. How quickly she had gained the upper hand. He raised his body, using his hands and lifting upward, almost miming a push up. Her caress continued, but not for long. He placed his hand over hers, discontinuing a touch that he didn't want to, knowing if he didn't, their lovemaking would end before it began.

She mused that he certainly hadn't lost his touch. He still knew what she liked, where she loved to be kissed, the small tickle at her lower back whenever his lips touched her flesh. It was crazy wicked, but whenever he did that, she couldn't help but cry out. Would he stop? Certainly not. It was easy for him to please her, it was an advantage of having been with him so long. He knew what to do, what to say, and how to make her feel completely alive. It had taken Jack a very long time to learn those tricks. He never could do to her what Frank Donovan did.

In a sense, it felt like she was a virgin again. She remembered that Donovan had been her first lover. Sure, she had had plenty of dates where boys had groped her and thought they knew what they were doing. So, that was exactly what she expected on the first night she spent with him. How wrong she was. Their age difference taught her that he knew more about pleasing a woman than those teenaged boys she dated throughout high school and a few dorky ones in college. He set her on fire easily, where she had completely forgotten it was supposed to hurt the first time. Oddly, it didn't. She barely felt him enter, but once he did, every part of her body seemed to sing. At his entrance inside her tonight, her body sang again. Louder than ever.

While moving within her, in that timeless cycle of love, he had his own thoughts about one of their 'first times' together, especially right after he was shot. It took a while for him to recover. The last time they made love was right before she left him the final time. Having nearly gone mad when he was shot, she argued about making love with him. She thought he was delicate, that he might break. When he assured her it wasn't the case, she went with him willingly enough. The first thing she did was kiss his chest where he had been injured. It was one of the most touching moments of his life. It was a feeling he couldn't explain, but the feeling of her lips on the scar was an incredible sensation. He could safely say it felt the same tonight. She knew. She still knew after all these years. God help him, he loved her for remembering.

At her climax, she couldn't avoid bursting into tears. She felt them streaming down her face. He kissed them away, causing her to experience another shuddering climax. Most men were selfish lovers, they didn't try to do anything to help their partners along. The instant they were finished, it was finished. Literally. He had the personal distinction of being completely different than that. He would love his partner long after his release. She had forgotten this about him. How could she? How could she forget this?

At his, his body froze over hers, his intake of breath ceased. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly. Despite whatever incompatibilities existed between them, she fit him so amazingly well. It was hard to remember what tore them apart so many times in the past. Hadn't they learned anything since their break up? He didn't know, but at this moment, it seemed to be so. When his body recovered, he kissed her deeply, wanting to revel in the sensation as long as he could. He wondered vaguely if he had been leading them into this the moment he saw her again.

Later, Donovan awoke at the slight shift of his bed. He leaned up on one elbow and watched as Rachel donned his robe. "Are you okay?"

She jumped a bit at his voice. She sat on the side of the bed and turned toward him. "I didn't mean to wake you. I got cold."

She slid back into bed, watching Donovan with a smile as he threw the covers back over them both. She laid her head on his shoulder and reached across him to grasp his hand in hers. It felt completely natural to her to be in this position. However, she didn't know where to go from here. She thought with some certainty that neither of them could go back to the past. For once, she drove those thoughts out of her head.

"Better?"

She laughed and planted a soft kiss on his chest. "Lots."

"I think I owe you an apology," he said.

"No you don't, Frank. I completely understand why you were so angry. Whatever you said, whatever you did, I deserved it. All of it."

"No Rachel, you didn't," Donovan insisted. "I've been in the game long enough to know what happens to those who open their mouths. You're doing what you were asked to do. I have no right to criticize it."

She pulled away from his comforting embrace to lean up on her elbow. He was looking up at her with the same solemn gaze he used earlier tonight before they fell into bed. "You have valid reasons to feel the way you do, Frank. I could have refused the assignment. I obviously have a conflict of interest going here."

"You do if I'm on your short list," he said. "Otherwise, you don't."

"You're not, Frank," she admitted. "But I do have a definite conflict. The very group I'm watching includes a man I'm now in bed with. It also involves a man I lived with for several years. What does that tell you?"

"That you have a shitty case," he said. "I don't need to know the details of what you're doing. But if you knew all along, why did you show up at Favron Resort wearing a red wig?"

"Stupidity, I suppose," she said with a shameful grin. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm sorry for everything." She leaned forward to kiss him. He accepted it willingly enough. "I want you to know a couple of things. First, of course, is that I'll always love you. You'll always have a place in my heart."

He ran his hand through her hair, caressing her silky locks, holding a few strands for good measure. "You too, Rachel. Always. What else? I know something has been bothering you tonight. I could sense it."

"I know you could," she said softly. "I should have told you earlier before you made love to me. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I'm pregnant."

It struck him from left field. With anything she could say to him, this was definitely not what he expected. He gazed at her for a very long time, unsure what to say, where to go with this news. "Pregnant?"

She nodded, lowering her head in shame for a few minutes before meeting his gaze again. "That's the other thing I had buried with my shield. It was a pregnancy test."

"I suppose you haven't told Jack," he said evenly.

"No. With the way things are going now, I probably won't. I should have told you, Frank, before we got this far. It's another thing in a series of them that I'm sorry for."

"I'm surprised, but I don't regret this. I don't regret tonight or how I still feel about you. Don't you think you should tell Jack?"

She shook her head. "No way. The way we ended things, he would probably think I was trying to trap him. I certainly don't intend to do that. He's not interested in marriage or having children. He has never said so, but I can tell with the way he talks."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Frank. I don't know." She sat on the side of the bed and dropped the robe. She started to get up, but she felt him take hold of her arm. "What is it?"

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she incredulously. "Where else?"

"No," he said. "You're not going anywhere tonight."

He took her back to bed and made love to her again. It was something she didn't expect, especially after telling him about her little stranger. It said a lot about his character, about the type of man he was. Any woman would be lucky to have his attention.

* * *

In another part of town, Lincoln sat alone. He wasn't sure where Holly was, but when he saw her again, she would be sorry for leaving him alone tonight. When he was in the planning stage, she was always required to be here. He knew a certain accomplice who would be unable to sit for at least three days.

He sat with an open newspaper. It was one of those small town community type things. In another part of the state, there would be some type of county fair. Most small towns had them every year with animal exhibits, elderly rides, and lots of people. He knew a lot about serial killers, knew that some of them often wrote letters to newspapers about their lives and crimes in an attempt to be caught. As of today, he hadn't done such a thing. He thought it was how people got caught. Tonight, though, he didn't give a ripe fuck. The death of Nona Pope gave him plenty of press, but he wanted more. He wanted them to be afraid, to be _very_ afraid.

Lincoln read the story about the county fair again. On the opening night, the paper boasted, they were expecting record numbers. Oh. And look at this. There would be some type of pageant. This event would draw many types of women. The women who entered wouldn't all be fluffy blondes, either. Many of them would have dark hair. Perhaps he and Holly could nab more than one in a night. That would make things harder for them, but way more interesting. Wouldn't it? It was perfect. A perfect night. A perfect plan. More perfect murders.

He pushed away from the kitchen table and walked into the living room. Somewhere in the house, he had an old electric typewriter. If he stupidly decided to email a letter, he might be caught before he was ready. Mailing it the old fashioned way was the only avenue to travel. Off to the right of the room was a closet. He threw all types of things in there, including out of date electronics. When he peered into the small closet, he found the typewriter at the bottom buried under a couple of old sweaters Holly owned. He lifted it with some effort and carried it into the kitchen. It was covered with dust. It was of no consequence to him. After dusting it off, he put on a pair of rubber gloves. Once the machine was wiped clean, he sat down and typed out a letter to the _Brandonvale Courier_. He knew with certainty that it would find its way to the Miami office. It would go right where he wanted it to. The FBI may believe it a fraud, but all he needed was some interest. Once the bodies were found, they would know it was as genuine as his smile. Yes indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Nathan Fitzgerald, the director of the IA division, stalked into the office with a copy of a small town newspaper in his hand. It had been sent by overnight express mail. What it contained was completely disturbing. He entered his office, nodding slightly to his secretary, Mary. She was a young woman, barely three years out of college. She was still green enough to fear his presence. Honestly, he didn't give a ripe damn what she did with her time as long as she got him what he needed in a timely manner. If she wanted to play on the computer all day, hitting Facebook [tm], checking status updates, or even playing games, he didn't care. What he cared about right now was that a psycho had written a letter to a swamp town paper, threatening to kidnap and kill two women. Other than that, he was pretty open-minded.

Fitzgerald carried the paper into his office and spread it out to view the letter. It had been on the presses and out to the good citizens of Brandonvale before anyone noticed the letter. Apparently, the editor-in-chief at the paper didn't feel it necessary to make an emergency contact. He remembered the short and sweet conversation he had had with the man. "We thought the guy was just dicking around," was what the editor said. When he actually read the letter, he screamed at the poor idiot for about an hour. The instant the paper received the letter, he should have called the FBI. It was as simple as that. Along with the paper, Fitzgerald had the actual letter sent to the newspaper. He immediately bagged it and sent it to the techs to determine if there were any fingerprints. He was certain there wouldn't be. After lecturing the poor _Brandonvale Courier_ editor for a good twenty minutes, he let him off the hook, but didn't hesitate to tell him that if anyone else had died, it would fall on his shoulders. Oh yes it would.

"Director Fitzgerald, you have a fax waiting for you from Mayor Cunningham from Brandonvale."

He looked up from the newspaper and gave Mary a cursory glance. "That's fine. I'll read it when I finish with this cluster fuck awaiting us. I want you to contact Rachel Sloane. I want her in on this. We will tell the other agencies as soon as we figure out our plans of attack."

"Okay, sir," she said. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Get busy. That's all I want."

* * *

Rachel awoke from a sound sleep, noticing that she was still wrapped carefully in Donovan's embrace. He had yet to stir and she decided it would be a shame to wake him, but she had to stop by her law office for a quick check in, then she was due at the IA division to keep Fitzgerald abreast of what she had accomplished. She completely dreaded it. She wanted nothing to do with this case. Still, she made a promise to herself that she would work it until it was solved. It didn't matter how long it might take, she would do it.

She carefully unwrapped herself from his arms. He mumbled something in his sleep, but didn't open his eyes. Good. She wanted a chance to hit the bathroom, shower, and take care of other things that needed to be done. One of those was quelling her morning sickness. She was a private puker, hating the idea of anyone hearing her vomit. The morning sickness usually hit her not long after she left the comfort of bed. She could almost count on it by the time of day. Carefully, she padded quietly to the bathroom and managed to get the door closed just as it hit. She thanked God for small miracles.

After her shower, she felt much better. She hadn't thought to bring anything to wear, as she had no idea she would spend the night with Donovan, tucked snugly in his arms. Although she didn't want to do it, she would have to put on yesterday's clothes. That was okay. She could stop off at her house before hitting her offices. When she opened the bathroom door and entered the bedroom again, she noticed that Donovan was coming alive, stretching, yawning, and getting his bearings. He hadn't forgotten she was there, because as soon as he saw her, he smiled her way. Nervously, she returned it. She still didn't know what this meant for them, if anything. She was pregnant with another man's baby, wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do about it, and she certainly didn't want him to feel obligated to her.

"How do you feel this morning," he asked, desperately trying to fix his mussed hair.

She nearly laughed at that. He wasn't accustomed to the long hair anymore. He acted as if he sometimes resented the fact it was there. "I think I'm doing as good as to be expected. And you?"

She slowly walked over to the bed and sat on the side of it. Her clothes were in a neat pile a few inches from her feet. She wasn't exactly in any hurry to get dressed. She had things to do, but she wasn't in any big hurry to do them. She desperately wanted to broach the subject of what was next for them, if anything. The words had a way of dying in her throat. For the life of her, she didn't know why she stayed with him.

"Me too," he said simply. "Rachel, I don't want to upset you, or pressure you, but I have something on my mind."

She didn't face him at that. Instead, she gathered her wrinkled garments and laid them neatly on the bed beside her. While he talked, she would put herself back together. "Go ahead."

"Last night, I felt completely connected to you," he began. "I don't know what to expect to happen. Do we try again? Do we part at this juncture? What do you want?"

She managed to step into her panties, snap her bra, but that was it for the moment. She turned so that she could look at him. "I know what I want. I'd like to try again with you, but we have had so many chances in the past. I have to decide what I want to do with this baby. It has nothing to do with you. And what about Lily? Don't you want to try and patch up your relationship with her? She doesn't want Jack, she wants you. I don't want to ruin your chances of having a normal life."

He took hold of her arm, gently pulling her toward him. He planted a very soft kiss to her mouth. "Let's see what happens. Is that fair enough?"

She smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Fair enough."

Rachel started to go back to what she had been doing when she heard her phone ringing. She picked up her discarded jeans and dug into the front pocket to retrieve her phone. When she saw who was calling, she frowned. Why the hell was Nathan calling this early in the morning? "Hello, Nathan. What do you need?"

"What I need," he said with his naturally gruff voice, "is for you to get your ass in to see me immediately."

"I'll be there in about an hour." She hung up and threw the phone back into her front pocket. She noticed that Donovan was watching her very closely. He wasn't stupid. He knew who 'Nathan' was. "I have to go. Director Fitzgerald calls."

He nodded, showing his understanding in one simple move. "Be careful."

"Always."

After a quick dash into her house for fresh clothing, Rachel made it to the office in a little over an hour. She entered the reception area, immediately taking note of Mary Gold, Nathan's very young secretary. She was a fresh looking redhead, her hair cut into a very short style similar to Lily Wells. Her eyes were emerald green, filled with mirth. Rachel assumed that Mary Gold was probably a hell raiser when she was in college. As soon as Mary saw her enter, she said nothing. She smiled her way, and nodded toward the door to Nathan Fitzgerald's office, which meant he was ready to see her.

Rachel bypassed Mary's desk and entered Nathan's office without knocking. Nathan Fitzgerald was a man in his late thirties. He was very tall, standing almost six feet four. His hair, a very dark brown, was wavy and barely touched his shoulders. His eyes were also very dark brown and often looked black when he focused them on her, reminding her instantly of Jack's eyes. He had a strong jaw, almost square in shape. He turned a lot of heads when he walked by a group of women, but he stayed aloof and focused. Mostly, he was all business. She didn't know if he had a social life. If he did, it was probably as static and staunch as he was. With a pang, Rachel realized that he possessed a lot of characteristics that Jack did. He also seemed a lot like Donovan as well. It was weird how she could find those attributes in men she met.

From his terminal, Fitzgerald glanced up at her with little interest. "About time you showed up," he commented. "Sit down."

She ignored his admonishment and sat down. "What did you think was so important that you had to call me at six this morning?"

He pushed back from his desk in order to open the top drawer. Without a word, he pushed the newspaper toward her, along with a bagged letter. "Read those."

Rachel looked at the bagged letter first. It was from a man who called himself Lincoln. The letter read: _Dear Dumb Asses, I am writing to you from sunny Miami, Florida. In a few weeks, Brandonvale will hold its annual county fair. Me and my lovely assistant will be traveling there very soon. We intend to find two dark haired lovelies and end their lives as effectively as we have ended others. We'll be in touch. Love, Lincoln and Holly. _She glanced at the newspaper, noticing that the letter had been printed in the small town paper of Brandonvale.

"Do you think it's genuine," she asked after staring at the two documents for what seemed like hours.

"We've shown it to several staff shrinks already. I've also shown it to a couple of profilers. From all opinions, it seems genuine. Serial killers write to newspapers all the time," he explained nonchalantly.

"I know that," she said shortly. "But as far as we know, TSK hasn't written to any papers before. What if it's a copycat? Or some small town Gomer trying to attract attention?"

"It could be," he said with a shrug. "It could be not. Most of our experts think it's genuine. I'm still leaning toward a law enforcement connection, namely another Justice Department employee, whether he is FBI or not is another question altogether. However, I want you on this. I want you to go to the county fair in Brandonvale with the TSK taskforce."

She looked at him as if he had cracked. "Nathan, I'm not a field agent. I'm IA."

"Rachel, I know well who and what you are. It doesn't matter to me. If any of the TSK taskforce is compromised, this is the only way to know. I want you to meet with them today. I have already sent a letter to their director arranging it. You will go with them to this county fair. I'm almost convinced that if a murder happens at this fair, our suspect is on that team."

Rachel stared at Fitzgerald for a very long time. He had told her what he wanted her to do without a blink of an eye or a hesitation in his speech. No one wanted an IA agent hanging around them while they were working. She was sure they would not want her around. Honestly, she didn't want to be around. She didn't want to see Jack or Lily. "I suppose I can't say no."

He leaned toward her, focusing his eyes on her. "No, Rachel, you can't say no. This part of your job is not a negotiation." He stood up, gathered the newspaper and bagged letter. He slid them toward her. "They will be expecting you around ten."

* * *

Donovan entered the building and walked toward their complex of offices. He was curious about the call Rachel had received. He knew who Nathan was. Something must have obviously happened. Pushing the thoughts aside, he continued on, noticing immediately that Ashcroft and Lily were seated in the conference room with Hurtz and Lockwood. Bypassing his office for the time being, he entered the room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat next to Jess Lockwood. Ashcroft had the head seat at the table and was drumming his fingers impatiently. The noise was unnerving, but Donovan wouldn't say anything. Lily had her nose stuck to her laptop. Lockwood and Hurtz were the less oblivious of the group. They were chatting away about plans they had this weekend to see a NASCAR [tm] race.

"What are we meeting about today," Donovan asked.

Ashcroft cut his eyes in Donovan's direction. "We have a case update. Word has it that TSK wrote a letter to a small town newspaper. We're expecting someone at ten to let us know what our next step is."

"Director Buchanan," Donovan asked.

"Not even close," Lily said. "Nathan Fitzgerald from IA is sending one of his agents down to discuss our next step."

"Why would an IA agent do that," Lockwood asked. "Are they pointing fingers at one of us?"

"Who knows," Ashcroft said. "I hate IA."

The information tweaked Donovan's nerves. He knew Rachel had gotten a call this morning from Nathan Fitzgerald. He was certain she would be the IA agent they sent. What in the world did she have to do with this? She wasn't a field agent or a UC as far as he was concerned. She had no reason to be conducting such a meeting.

They didn't have much time to wonder. After about fifteen minutes, Rachel Sloane was shown into the conference room. All of them gave her some bizarre looks, with the exception of Frank Donovan. He wasn't surprised at all. He was almost positive that she would be sent down. He didn't think she should have conducted the meeting, but he had no qualms about expecting her here. He noted stronger looks coming from both Lily and Ashcroft.

Donovan eyed her cautiously. She was dressed professionally, but had an ashen appearance about her. He knew why that was. She was pregnant, facing the man who had gotten her that way, knowing their relationship was over. He noticed how Ashcroft eyed her up and down, completely disgusted that she was here, that she was working IA all the time. He could almost read the other man's thoughts. It was the same set he had in his own head when she admitted she was an agent.

"What the hell is going on here, Rachel," Ashcroft demanded. "When did you become an FBI IA agent?"

She set down her briefcase and popped the clasps to open it. She dug out a sheaf of papers and handed them down to each agent. She had yet to address his question. Donovan wondered if she ever would. That's when she opened her mouth. "Thanks for the question, Jack," she began sarcastically. "I have been working with the IA department for approximately twelve years. I started with the agency just as I began law clerking. I have been assigned to this case since the beginning."

"Why now? Why _you_? Why were you sent," Lily asked. She considered this woman competition for Donovan's affections. And she was rightly pissed off.

"What I handed each of you is case specs," she began. "Our office received a letter from TSK. It was authenticated earlier by document examiners. This letter was sent first to a small town north of Miami, Brandonvale, Florida. They are planning a county fair in the next few days. The killer has stated he will abduct two women from the fair and kill them. It is your job to go to Brandonvale and ensure this does not happen."

Donovan noticed she was trying hard not to look at him. It hadn't been that long since she left his bed. He supposed she didn't want the others to pick up on it. What did it matter now? Both Lily and Ashcroft were thinking the worst. He gauged the expressions of the others. None of them had ever taken orders from IA. Obviously, their director was in on it, or she wouldn't be here at all. So, what was next? Was she going? Was she going UC with the rest of them?

"Why didn't our director come forward first," Ashcroft asked, as if digging into Donovan's brain, retrieving his thoughts. "Our orders come directly from him, not some IA puke."

"IA puke I might be," Rachel said, focusing her eyes on Ashcroft. "However, my director has been speaking to your director all morning. This was the way of it. I'm heading up the team of agents trying to find the members of your agency who may be helping this killer or who is the killer himself or themselves."

"That's an incredible amount of horseshit," Lockwood said angrily. "Who has ever heard of an FBI agent on the wrong side of the law? Why should we be prepared to offer any assistance to you or your faction?"

"Because I said so," a man's voice said from behind Rachel.

All eyes were on the man who had just entered. It was Director Fitzgerald. He was flanked by their director. They stood in allegiance. How odd it had to have been for their director to accept that the FBI had a dirty agent. Donovan flipped through the thick set of papers. He read the contents quickly, paying a lot of attention to a photocopy of the letter sent to Brandonvale. No one had to be an expert to know that serial killers often did this, but so far, none of them had seen evidence that TSK had done so. What was his purpose? Did they think that simply because they hadn't caught the perpetrator, that it had to be one of them? Did they consider the fact that TSK just might be a bit smarter? Donovan thought about his courses in college. Did some psych course once proclaim that killers always wanted to be caught? Further, if any of them _could _be the killer, wasn't it slightly stupid to come out and say it? That is, unless it was a tactical shot at the killer to help him confess.

"Does this mean you're coming with us on this jaunt," Hurtz asked Rachel.

"Yes," she answered. "In some capacity."

"Wonderful," Ashcroft said under his breath.

"Jack, do we have any problems with her assistance," Director Buchanan asked sternly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "None at all, Boss."

"It's time to pack your bags, and prepare for the trip," Buchanan told them. "It's a concerted effort. What you need to remember is that neither Agent Sloane nor Director Fitzgerald are pointing fingers in your direction."

"If there are any questions, feel free to ask right now, or call me at my office," Rachel said. "Everything you need is in the packet I gave each of you."

She didn't wait for more ugly looks to be thrown her way. She went into the lobby and headed toward the water fountain. She drank deeply, wishing she could shoot down a glass of scotch. Anything to dull her pain. When she quenched her thirst sufficiently, she turned to exit the building, but was stunned to see Fitzgerald standing behind her, watching her carefully.

"Are you okay," he asked.

She smiled widely, but it was completely fake. "Fine. Thanks for your support in there. If you want to go on to the office, I'll follow you."

He nodded and squeezed her arm. "Sounds good. Check in with me when you get back."

She agreed to do so and started toward the water fountain again. However, something stopped her. The agents had begun to flood out of the conference room. Lily and Ashcroft came first, barely noticing her. Donovan was last. He saw her, but she figured he had been looking for her. He made eye contact with her and then moved his head slightly to the side. He wanted to see her in his office. She nodded discreetly and watched him until he was out of sight. She then went in the direction of his office. His door was open, as he was waiting for her.

She came inside and closed the door behind her. She watched with a grin as Donovan closed the blinds. He obviously didn't want anyone to know she was there. It was okay. She didn't want to run into either Jack or Lily. It was bad enough watching them in the conference room. If looks could kill, she would already be dead.

"I know you weren't prepared for the third degree," Donovan began. "How are you feeling?"

She set her briefcase down on one of the visitor's chairs and sat in the other. "I'm okay. I just didn't expect the ire out of Jack. Lily I can understand, but not Jack."

He kneeled before her and took her hand. "You don't deserve it. You don't deserve a lot of things done and said. Some of it was by me. Do you think you should tag along?"

Rachel smiled. It was the whole protective vibe. He knew she was pregnant, so he was expressing concern. Sleeping together the night before didn't mean they were involved any longer, but he was concerned. She wondered how he had treated his wife when she was pregnant. "I own what I own," she said simply. "As for me, I think I'll be all right. It's no big deal. I just wish you wouldn't be so stubborn. I wish you would go to Lily and tell her you're crazy about her. I know she hurt you, but she's a great gal."

"Always trying to project your hurt onto someone else, aren't you," he said with a smile. "Don't worry about me and Lily. It may happen, it may not. I simply wish you would talk to Jack about your pregnancy."

She sighed. "I can't see that happening any time soon. He hates me, Frank. Clearly. And like I've said, he has never wanted children or even wanted to talk about it. It will work itself out. Don't worry about me."

He stood when he realized she was moving to stand herself. She gathered up her briefcase. "I think I need to get back to the office."

He took her hand and brought it briefly to his lips. "Take care of yourself, Rachel."

"I will," she said. "Do you want to come by tonight? Have some dinner?"

"I'd like that," he said.

When she left his office, she was disheartened to see Lily in the hallway. She had obviously been coming down to see Donovan, but the moment she saw Rachel, she changed her mind. Lily turned and went in the opposite direction. It made Rachel feel badly, feel as if she was stepping between them. She moved on down the hall, toward the exit when Ashcroft came within her field of vision. He stared at her for a very long time. She wanted to say something, but couldn't. How would he react to news that she was pregnant? Would be blow it off or would he be happy about it? For God's sake, the baby was his. Wouldn't he care? Rachel moved closer toward him. The moment he noticed she was doing this, he turned away from her and walked on. At that point, she decided he did not deserve to know he was going to be a father. If he didn't want her, she didn't want him, and he didn't deserve to know about the baby.

* * *

When Donovan knocked, Rachel answered immediately. Whatever she had been cooking smelled divine. He entered the foyer, wondering when she had taken to cooking. When they were together before, Rachel never cooked. It was refreshing seeing her at home, happier than she had been in a long time. Rachel darted toward the kitchen, saying something about taking their dinner out of the oven before it burned. He ventured further in the house and noticed a setting for two in the small dining room just off the kitchen.

"I've just about got this ready," she said from the kitchen. "There's a bottle of wine over on the breakfast nook. Pour yourself a glass."

He did just as she asked. The wine she picked was sweet, leaving a light aftertaste. He carried his glass into the kitchen while she was placing a casserole onto a rack to cool. He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "What are we having?"

She smiled his way, still wearing a pair of oven mitts. "Chicken and veggie casserole. My mother's recipe."

"Cooking and wearing mitts is something I haven't seen you do before," he commented lightly.

Rachel laughed and pushed off the mitts. "No you didn't. Funny how time changes people. As soon as it cools, we can try it out. I have salad in the fridge. Do you mind carrying it to the table?"

He set his wine glass on the kitchen counter. "Not at all."

Donovan opened the fridge, grabbed a gigantic bowl of salad, and carried it to the dining table. He turned when he saw Rachel carrying the casserole in. He started back to get his glass of wine, but she waved at him, indicating she would get it, and he needed to sit down. He did just that as she went to retrieve the bottle of wine and his glass. They each served themselves a helping of salad and Donovan refilled his wine glass. Rachel poured herself a tall glass of apple juice.

She drank some of it and grimaced. "It's not wine, but it'll do."

They ate dinner, conversing lightly, not touching on any particular topic, and especially not mentioning work, Lily, or Jack. It was a pleasant turn, one neither had expected. After demolishing all the salad and half the casserole, Rachel brought in a strawberry shortcake that was perfect. After that, neither wanted to look at another bite of food for the rest of the evening. After eating, they retired to the living room.

"I'm glad you came tonight, Frank," she said.

He glanced at her beside him. She seemed troubled, worried about something. "Are you okay?"

"I just ran into Jack this morning before I went back to my office," she said. "I've decided not to tell him about the baby. I have yet to decide whether I'm keeping it or not, but he's definitely not a factor anymore."

"I don't have a say in this," he began. "But I've always thought you would make an exceptional mother."

"You're so sweet to say that, Frank," she said. "I almost want to cry."

"It's the truth," he insisted. "You would. Before we separated, I thought a thousand times about marrying you, having kids with you. Everything. Hell, I once bought an engagement ring, but never had the chance to propose. It is just that life got in the way. The timing was never right, for either of us. Now, you have a stitch in a personal relationship, but your time with him resulted in a child. I think you would make a wonderful parent. You can give this child anything he or she might want, including unconditional love."

She brought her legs up under her, so she could turn her body toward his. She ran her finger along the side of his face, resting it under his chin. "Just like you with your boys. They have you. Perfect you may not be, but I'll bet they think you are."

He leaned toward her and kissed her lips very gently. Just when she wanted more of him, more of his kiss, he pulled away. "What is this, Rachel? What do you think we're doing?"

The question had been asked before, but she still didn't know the answer. "I don't know," she whispered.

They had had a similar conversation, it was true, but it was something that needed to be asked again. Donovan was the type of man who liked everything solidified in his life. He knew they had tried and failed many times. They were much younger, however, and both had changed. He thought about her baby, the way she didn't want to tell Ashcroft. If it came to it, he would definitely be willing to take care of the child, just as he took care of his boys.

"I know that I want you," she began. "I know that the moment I kissed you again, you were all I could think about. I know with Jack gone, I don't care whether he's back in my life. I know we haven't been successful in the past, but who knows where things go?"

"Everything you've said is what I've thought," he said. "Was I faking it for Lily? Was I trying to find something with her when I wanted you? I don't know how to answer those questions, Rachel. All I know is that if we can try, let's try. If you don't want to get into a serious thing with me, why can't we take it day to day. See where it goes?"

She smiled. "I'm all for it. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

He kissed her then, deeply, passionately. Rachel felt crazy, sick, fevered. They made love on the couch. When it was over, she held onto Donovan, molding her body into his. What in the world were they doing? What in the world were they thinking? Whatever answers came to them, they would deal with them later. Right now, they only wanted to deal with a rekindled love, a rekindled romance.

* * *

In another part of town, Lily Wells sat directly across from Jack Ashcroft. Since they returned from Favron Resort, neither of them had advanced their relationship one step.

She watched Ashcroft drink coffee that had gone cold hours ago. He was not in a mood to see her or anybody. However, he agreed to meet Lily anyway. What they were doing wasn't fun anymore. They were hurting no one, and that was the purpose of their being together, to hurt those whom hurt them first. It didn't matter what they did. Donovan and Rachel seemed not to notice.

"What do you want, Lily," Ashcroft demanded. He took a swallow from his coffee cup. He grimaced at the cold brew. It was nasty.

"Don't knock on my door anymore," she said. "I'm not interested in sleeping with you again. I shouldn't have slept with you in the first place. Being with you isn't solving any problems."

"I agree," he said. "They're together tonight, you know. I saw Donovan's car at her house."

"What the hell, Jack," she asked incredulously. "Are you stalking them?"

Ashcroft laughed. "Lily, you do have a wicked imagination, don't you? It used to be my house, you know? I drove by there to pick up some more of my stuff when I saw him there. I didn't go in. What they do is no longer my business. If you don't want to fuck me anymore, that's fine. There are other ways of seeking revenge, you know."

"What is it with you, Jack?"

He glared at Lily, completely undressing her with his eyes. "You don't need to speak of things you don't know about, Lily."

She looked at him with an odd expression, trying to read into him. What she heard, she didn't like. He was losing his edge. "I'm leaving," she said.

"Good," he told her. "Be careful of those shadows, Lily."

_What did that mean_, she wondered. What the hell was wrong with him?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The police department at Brandonvale, Florida was somewhat smaller than that of Springville. They did not have a detective or evidence technician. Anything they received had to be sent straight to Tampa, to the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Department. They were located several miles away in a swampy area of Florida that no one knew existed until the county fair. The chief of police was a gent in his fifties. He had been a part of this department since he graduated the police academy. Dale Shempert had seen a lot of things during his tenure. He saw men beating their women, kids robbing cars in the Walmart parking lot, and a few really horrid bar fights. Serial killers? He had never heard of one in this town. If anyone was killed, it was more likely due to some poor idiot falling into the swamp and getting chomped on by a gator. A serial killer? No way.

Several hours ago, he heard from a man who called himself Nathan Fitzgerald. He said he was from the FBI down in Miami. Apparently, his boys thought the letter in their small town rag was actually from a killer. He could have told them not to waste their time. It was written by some dumb ass kid who thought it was funny. Everyone in Florida had heard of this guy, everyone was telling their children boogeyman stories about the killer. _If you don't go to bed, the Souvenir Killer is gonna get'cha_! Hell, his own daughter in-law often said that to her kids when they refused to go to sleep. He didn't resent the FBI or a visit from them. He simply resented a break in peace. If one old biddy here in town found out the FBI were coming, the whole town would be put on alert. Everyone would be freaking out. He didn't want the fair ruined by some stupid asshole who happened to pick their paper to write a bunch of bullshit to. It was his jurisdiction, damn it, and he wanted no part of it.

Shempert had spent a good twenty minutes telling his dispatcher that the FBI would be riding in town before long. They all had good covers. There were six of them coming. Two would be staying with his deputy, portraying his niece and nephew. Two would stay up at the motel, posing as writers working on a story about their fair. Two would be staying at home with him and his wife. Again, they would be introduced as family members from out of town. This Nathan Fitzgerald guy had sent pictures to his office via fax so he could get an idea what they looked like. One guy had long black hair, he looked like a hippie. He was one who would be staying with him and Maude, along with a young lady with black hair. He couldn't remember her name off the top of his head. The others staying at his deputy's place seemed like two clean cut young kids. One of whom had dark hair and a days growth of beard on his face. They looked a bit more upstanding. The young woman was well put together, blonde, and very innocent looking. The two guys were rough around the edges, especially the one with the shaggy hair and funky black eyes. The third party in that faction was tall, with a buzz cut. He reminded Shempert a little of that _Terminator_ guy. There was no way he could pass as a writer.

He hoped the letter was a hoax. He hoped that nothing happened at their county fair. He only attended as extra security. Otherwise, he avoided it. The thing was, the fair was entertainment for tons of swamp towns around this area. The kids came and had a ball. They always held some type of pageant, too, with little girls all the way up to grown ones. No one ever walked away from it feeling cheated or disappointed. The FBI hinted that an abduction would take place, worse still, a murder might take place. No it wouldn't. Not in his town. Not if he had anything to do with it.

* * *

Lily left Jack Ashcroft sitting. His words completely haunted her. She didn't know what their meaning was, if anything. Since his split with Rachel Sloane, he had gone from a semi-nice guy to a jerk in the space of a few minutes. Before she even considered Donovan a possible crush, she had focused her attention on Jack first. He was handsome, witty, and seemed to be fun. The instant she decided to sleep with him the first time, she realized that it was a game, a false face. He became uglier and uglier by the moment. She wanted to tell somebody, tell Frank, and especially tell Rachel. She was angry with Rachel for going back to Donovan, but could she blame her? What kind of hell had Jack put her through? Rachel had a history with Donovan, and it excused a lot. She was hurt, she wouldn't shake their hands, but she didn't think it was safe for either Rachel or Donovan to spend any time with Jack Ashcroft. He was dangerous. She didn't know how she knew that, but it was a feeling that couldn't leave her mind.

As soon as she left Ashcroft, Lily made her way home. Her ninth floor walk up wasn't that far from where she had met Ashcroft, but it still made her wish she had asked for an escort home. Paranoid, she kept checking over her shoulder, to see if anyone was following her. No one was. Good. She didn't bring her side arm, as she left it locked in her safe at home. She tromped along, focused on getting home while she had the chance. _What am I saying_? She had to be nuts, believing that someone was out to get her. So what? So what that Jack Ashcroft sounded as if he was about to crack. He had good reasons. He had just left his girlfriend of many years because he suspected her of cheating with Frank Donovan. Perhaps she was wrong about him. Whatever the case, she had no plans to rekindle her sleaze affair with him no matter how many times Frank Donovan rejected her.

Lily stepped up to the outer door, noticing it was wide open. There were kids in the building, so it might have been why no one managed to close it. When she thought about the time, it made her skin crawl. She was imagining things, that's all. She allowed an asshole to scare her with his warning for her to watch the shadows. What the hell did Jack know anyway? He had a swank house to go home to. _Oh, but he doesn't. Remember? He moved out on Rachel_. She shook it aside, entered the foyer, and closed the door behind her. Her ancient building didn't have much of a working elevator, so it would be necessary for her to climb the stairs. Apparently, her building wasn't deterred by ADA laws.

Lily, wearing high heeled boots, took to the staircase with as much gusto as she could muster. Which wasn't a lot. She clomped up flight after flight of stairs. To her horror, to her great disgust, Jack Ashcroft was waiting for her. He stood with his arms draped over the railing, waiting for her patiently enough. She had no time to deal with the bastard, and surely wouldn't want to invite him in for a night cap. She had no intention of inviting him in for anything, coffee, tea, or sleazy nookie.

"You walk fast," Lily said blankly.

He smiled. "I know. Look, I was a bastard. I brought something for you."

She was so incensed that she hadn't seen the box resting on the floor beside him. She wasn't interested in looking at it. She didn't want more gifts from him. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm not interested anymore."

Sighing with aggravation and mumbling something about women under his breath, he bent down to retrieve the box. He handed it to her. "It's a peace offering, Lily. Humble me, why don't you? It doesn't bite. That I assure you."

Reluctantly, she picked up the box. It was from a flower shop downtown. He didn't seem to be the flower kind of guy. She opened the box and saw a bunch of flowers she couldn't immediately name. They were lavender in color and reminded her of hundreds of tiny tubas. "What are these?"

Ashcroft smiled at her. "Holly hocks. I love their delicate fragrance. They don't overpower you like some flowers. I think they were made for you."

It struck her odd that he brought her holly hocks. Didn't she hear that the female part of the murdering duo was named Holly? She looked at the delicate flowers. They certainly were lovely. Not many men thought of buying her flowers, much less something like this. "They're beautiful, Jack. They almost fit with my purple color scheme."

He smiled broadly, beautifully. "Do you like them?"

She sniffed them. Their fragrance was as delicate as the flower itself. Most men liked to send roses or daisies, but not Jack Ashcroft. He wasn't particularly romantic. All he wanted from her was the slim saddle between her legs. "Yes, I do. Very much." She carried her flowers toward the front door. She dug for her keys, finally found them, and managed to stick her key in the lock. She could smell his cologne behind her. Did he want to be invited in? She wasn't ready for his kind of company.

She didn't immediately open the door, Jack would simply follow her inside. "Jack, I accept your apology," she began. "Flowers doesn't fix anything, though. If you don't mind, I'd like to go inside and hit the sack. I'm pretty wrecked."

Ashcroft didn't move from his spot. "You look like you need some company. Donovan has Rachel, Lockwood is boinking some chick named Jill, Hurtz has Lauren, Director Buchanan has Bianca, and so on and so on. I think you need me tonight," he said in an annoying matter of fact way. "You don't need to be alone tonight. I can sense it."

Lily watched Ashcroft closely. Something was off. He was using some type of subliminal message that she wasn't understanding. She wished she had the guts to call Donovan about this. "I may be alone," she said. "But it's what I like, especially now. I'm not interested in pursuing another fling with you. We did what we did, but that doesn't seem to be bothering Frank or Rachel. I'm upset, I won't lie, but I'm not doing this anymore. If Frank wants me, he'll find me. Same with Rachel and you."

"Soon, she'll know what's she's missing," he threatened. "Soon, you will all know what it's like to hurt like hell."

Handling the flower box made her tempted to hit him with it. "That's okay, Ashcroft. Even if I never see Frank Donovan again, I refuse to sabotage his relationship. He's a good man, Jack. Anyone would be lucky to have him. I'm already hurt and I suppose you are as well. It's hard to beat history. I've learned that the hard way. Do you mind leaving so I can get some work done before we leave for Brandonvale in the morning? It's a four hour drive."

"I thought we could get a bite to eat at Dobson's, have some wine, and talk about the case? It's still early," he said after checking his watch.

"No, Jack. Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass. I'm pretty wrecked," she repeated. "I don't think we should see each other or sleep together anymore. I'm tired of it," she said, finally expressing her feelings. "I slept with you, got my revenge, but wound up losing the man I care for greatly. Did he come running back to me? Did she come running back to you? She is a smart girl, she knows what she wants. We left high school decades ago. We should act as such, don't you think?"

He approached her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She wanted to shrug him away, but couldn't. "While Rachel is in the picture, you should forget having another chance with him. I hope you know that."

She threw daggers at him with her eyes. "I know this, you dumb asshat," she exclaimed. "I know he loves her. I can guarantee he doesn't love me. Like me a lot? Sure, I'd say that. He does like me a lot. Other than that, his attention has changed, he has Rachel."

"I have ways of changing that," he said with a wicked gleam of his eye. "I can easily stake claim on Rachel. I have massive evidence against her."

She knew she would hate him afterward for asking this question, but she couldn't help it. "What do you have against her? What do you know that Frank doesn't?"

"I knocked her up," he said crudely. "Is he really going to be with a gal who's all knocked up," he asked comically. Unbeknownst to Rachel, he found out the news almost the same time she did. "I'm not letting her go without my child, Lily. She doesn't know that I was told. I have friends in high places, Lil. One of those is her OBGYN. I saw the doctor at the hospital a few days after she found out for sure. He told me that Rachel is due for her first appointment and asked if I would be attending it along with her. Oh, Donovan thinks he's slick, doesn't he? If he thinks I'm staying away from my kid, he's wrong. I'll kick his ass. Knowing how _noble _Donovan is, I'm sure he would jump in and say the kid is his. Well, I don't see that happening."

"Maybe you should just leave her alone, Jack. If you want your kid, you don't need to be forcing yourself back into her life. If you are indeed the father of her child, I'm sure she won't keep it away from you."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll do what I want when I want, Lily. I never wanted kids until I found out she was having one. I never believed in true love or marriage or all that other bullshit. I suppose since she's screwing around with your guy, that I will believe he's the baby daddy. Wrong."

"She probably didn't tell Frank," Lily said. She then realized that she was holding his gift of holly hocks. The smell of them were making her headachy and sniffly. "I appreciate the flowers, Jack, but I want you to leave. I have to get some sleep so we can plan our trip to the swamps."

He approached her, stood very close, and placed his hand on her back. He moved it in a circular motion. He knew she was a sucker for massages. He could tell immediately by her low, deep breaths. He was getting to her. Good. It was what he wanted. He needed to be with her tonight before she began poking about on her laptop.

"Come on, Wells," he said softly, his lips mere inches from her ear. "Let me in. Let me take care of you. Whatever you need to do, it can wait."

The flowers, her pounding headache, her disgust for Jack, and the fact that he wouldn't go away was wearing her down. "You need to get your own rest, Jack. You haven't been sleeping at all. You get weird when you don't sleep."

There was no one moving about in the building. Her apartment had two entrances. One led to a long hallway ending at a set of stairs. The other was near the front where everyone could see her whenever they pleased. She wondered which way he came in. She was about to ask, when he did something that he shouldn't have.

Ashcroft's hand slid down the back of her dress, finding the zipper. In one fell swoop, the zipper was all the way down. When the zipper was released, her summer dress slid easily off her shoulders, quickly pooling at her feet. Ashcroft moved her body, bending it slightly at the waist. She dropped the flowers as her hands grasped for the stair railing. He ran his finger along her spine, watching the goose flesh as it popped up all over her body. He put his hands on each side of her hips, bringing her back toward the front of his body. Holding onto the railing for dear life, she moaned aloud as his hands worked her out of her bra. His naughty hands, fiery and hot, worked their way inside her panties. In a whisper quick motion, they too pooled at her feet. When she felt his hand insert itself between her thighs, she couldn't help but cry out. _What the neighbors must think! _She tried to move away, but he was holding her hostage. She felt him at the back of her, hot, swollen, demanding to be let inside her. Coherent thought left her. She forgot what she was going to do for the night. She forgot everything. He entered her from behind, and for the moment, she let him have his way with her.

Once Ashcroft was safely passed out in her bed, Lily left him where he was. Like both Donovan and Ashcroft, Lily had connections. She carried her laptop into the kitchen, received an encrypted email, read it, and within a few moments, she had hacked her way into a CIA database. She checked numerous files, but found nothing on Jack Ashcroft. She was just about to give up for the night, when something caught her eye. There was nothing about Jack Ashcroft. There was plenty about another man, a double agent. He had several aliases, including Dominick Wilson, Fernando Duchamp, William Johnson, and Wilson Linkletter. After a bit more digging into the database, she discovered that the double agent turned out to be the many aliases of one Frank Donovan.

"Holy shit," she whispered to no one in particular.

It was Frank? It couldn't be? He never spoke much about his CIA days, so she had never pressed it. Rachel was in the CIA as well, with only one alias, Iris Whitwalker. Were they in this together? Were they the so-called TSK duo? No way. It couldn't be. _It just couldn't_. If any of them should have been suspects, it should have fallen onto Jack Ashcroft. He was the clearly weird one, wasn't he? He was wicked, vengeful, and full of hate. She didn't want to believe it could be Donovan or his current bed partner. She was with the fucking IA division for God's sake.

Checking in on Ashcroft, Lily noticed that he was still sleeping. She grabbed her cell phone, left her apartment, and pounded down the stairs. Her building had a vending room with a couple of soda machines that were rarely used. While she was in the safe confines of the vending room, she flipped through the paperwork and found a number for Megan Donovan. She had no idea that the woman would still be at the same number, but it was worth a try. She was overstepping her bounds, but she had to know something. She had to know more about Frank Donovan.

Over three thousand miles away, although extremely tired, Megan Weber Donovan answered the phone after three rings. She hated being called late, but at least she wasn't in bed. It would have made it worse. She stared bleary eyed at the phone, not recognizing the number, still clearly understanding it was a Miami call, she decided to answer it. It could have easily been her ex.

"Frank, if this is you, I wish you would learn to call earlier," she snapped.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Donovan," Lily began. "Excuse me, but I'm Lily Wells, calling from the Miami FBI. Do you have a few minutes?"

Megan's tiredness went away immediately. Although they were divorced, Donovan _was _the father of her boys. "Is he all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Frank is fine. I'm not sure if you can help me with this or not, but I was wondering if you have ever known your ex-husband to be in some type of trouble."

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," she began huffily.

"Do you know if your ex-husband was ever accused of spying? Or rather, of being a double agent? Outside of his undercover statuses, of course."

"There is one thing I know about Frank, Ms. Wells. And that thing would be his dedication to his work. He would never serve as a double agent outside the scope of his job. Whomever supplied this information to you lied. Is that it?"

Lily took the phone away from her ear, looked down at it, and flipped the bird. The former Mrs. Donovan was a grade A bitch, and from the sound of it, proud as hell to be that way. "Yes, that's it."

Lily hung up on the other woman, hoping fervently that she wouldn't call Donovan. Wow, she was a supreme UC agent, wasn't she? For fuck's sake, she hadn't been on many missions and felt more than a little green. Tomorrow, she would hit the computers at work and do some snooping. Megan Weber Donovan was no big help, now was she? If she could make an excuse, get Ashcroft out of her house, she could easily get to the office to check him out. Fingers were pointing to Donovan as TSK, with Rachel Sloane as his accomplice. It didn't make sense. _Fuck it all to hell_, she thought. She had to go, even if it meant leaving Ashcroft in bed.

A quick check on him again told her that Jack was clearly passed out. She didn't care if he was faking, but if he was, she hoped he would not follow her. She threw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. Without a second glance back at her illicit lover, she left her apartment and pounded down the stairs. Her research would better serve her with the federal government's computers at her mercy.

Working UC had its advantages. It didn't take much for Lily to gain entrance into their wing. It actually rotated on a twenty-four hour schedule with different agents in for different things. No one glanced at her twice as she strolled with purpose to her office. When she noticed that no one was giving her much of a second glance, she dove out of her office and bolted toward the main computer room. It was kept locked at all times, but UC agents had swipe cards to remedy that. They had plenty of discretion to use the computers. Her crappy hacking job wouldn't get her as far as these machines would.

Quietly, Lily stepped over to a terminal. It was operating and ready for input. She spent the better part of an hour looking up information about Frank Donovan and Rachel Sloane. She learned a great deal about them, including Donovan's shooting by one Ramon Rivera. The name sounded familiar to her. And it should. His name was all over the papers ten years or so ago. He had gone down on a cocaine rap. Oddly, he had worked with both Donovan and Sloane. In fact, Rivera had shot Donovan down. When Rivera was prosecuted, an all too familiar name was associated with his case. She was a lowly law clerk back then, but she helped get this man a nice stay in federal prison. She guessed that Sloane had likely used evidence that was completely illegal to Rivera's drug case. Was it a good thing or bad? The way the legal system worked, she should have been disgusted. However, if this guy had attacked Donovan, Lily would like to shake Sloane's hand for that one.

She accessed more files along the way, clicking on anything of interest to her. Yes, Donovan had had a lot of aliases, he had posed as a double agent many times, but there was nothing to suggest he was dirty. It bothered her. There was also nothing to suggest that Sloane was dirty either, other than her miracle information that helped convict Rivera. But then…what about Jack Ashcroft?

Opening another can of worms, Lily accessed all of his personal files, the cases he worked, his rate of capture, and so on. There was nothing unusual. He was either very clean, or he had someone working on his side, cleaning up the dirty marks. She didn't figure Abby would do such a thing. Would anyone else? Who else did Ashcroft speak with on a regular basis? Any other secretaries with blue badge access? She knew Nathan Fitzgerald had a secretary. Actually, she looked a little like Lily with the exception of the red hair. Taking on that theory, Lily accessed the records for Mary Gold. Like Ashcroft, nothing out of the ordinary. Either she was wrong about Donovan and Sloane or someone was playing with her, because they knew she had access to files, she had access to programs to hide her every step. Tonight, before going home, she ensured that she ran the program which would leave her walking away with no traces left behind.

* * *

Donovan and Rachel wound up sleeping in the guest room. She felt awkward sleeping with Frank in the bed she shared with Jack. She knew it was stupid, but it bothered her. Frank didn't seem to mind. The bed was smaller, but that was okay. It was just big enough for them to snuggle together. She missed that about Donovan most of all. His body, the way he held her, the way he seemed to bring her closer to his body just before it was time to get up.

There were decisions to be made, but she wanted to wait before making them. She wasn't psychic by any stretch of the imagination, but she felt as if their trip to Brandonvale would end the nonsense once and for all. After TSK was caught, Rachel could resume her duties as an entertainment lawyer, she could give up the shield for good. Which was what she wanted most of all. Right now, Fitzgerald wanted nothing to do with that idea.

Rachel couldn't help but look up into Frank's sleeping face. He had barely moved for an hour or more. She wasn't sure who Fitzgerald was pushing as a suspect in the TSK fiasco, but in her heart she thought he was pointing fingers at Donovan. It was true he had a rough time in the CIA. It was true that he had great upheaval in his home life. His wife left him, took their sons, and moved to the other side of the country. She even went further by enrolling the boys in a school overseas. She wasn't sure where that was, but thought it was in London. Any of those things could make a man crack. However, she didn't think it was Donovan who was cracking. She knew him, she knew he wouldn't break like that.

She didn't know any of the other agents that well, besides Jack. Lockwood and Hurtz were relatively new, but they were more along the lines of muscle guys. They were agents, but had never spied a day in their lives. Lily was an agent through and through, but she was a tech agent mostly. She completed all their profiles and served UC well when she was asked to do it. Who did it leave? It left Jack. For as long as she had known him, Jack didn't seem like one who would play with fire like that. He loved his job, often saying he _was_ his job. She didn't think that as long as she lived with Jack, she could have missed something that grand. Yet, she had her suspects. She had her short list. She might have to spend the rest of her life making it up to him, but God help her, Jack Ashcroft was on that list. Like Lily, she checked him out, noticed that his records were impeccable. Anyone with enough network savvy could change a few things without another person noticing. It was as simple as that. It was scary how Rachel's mind worked in the same vein as Lily's. She might have been stunned by it, if she had known. She knew there were two office workers who had access to the terminals. One of those was Abby Bush with the UC side. The other was Mary Gold with the IA faction. They had free reign inside that room. Other agents could use the terminals, but not many knew how to cover their tracks.

Although she was ready to go to Brandonvale, she also dreaded it. Something was coming. Something bad. She was afraid, but she would do as she was directed. It was her only way out of IA and back to the semi-normal life of an entertainment attorney. She thought of her baby. She was no more than eight or nine weeks along, according to her OBGYN, but there was a little life growing there. If she fully intended to keep this child, she could no longer wear two hats. She also didn't know if it would be Frank Donovan beside her along the way.

Donovan shifted position in his sleep and it brought Rachel back to reality. She knew this well. It was part of his routine when he was waking. She shifted position as well and moved a bit back away from his body. If she moved too far, she would land on the floor. She leaned up on her elbow and watched him closely. He was a complicated man, one so hard to shake. Once someone was able to get under his skin, he would die for them. She found her eyes tearing up. Heaven help her. She didn't just have a place in her heart for the man, her heart already belonged to him. It always would. As much as she thought she loved Jack, the moment he made love to her the first time, she knew she was wrong.

He came awake slowly, opening his eyes, searching for her beside him. He noticed that she had moved away slightly and was looking at him. He could tell she had been crying, but he wouldn't ask. He remembered asking a pregnant Megan once why she was crying, and she bit his head off. Although Rachel was completely different than Megan, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Do you see anything you like," he asked comically.

"Surely," she said with a smile. "You always look good in the morning. I'll bet women hate you for that."

"Ah, jealousy gets you nowhere," he said with a smile. He leaned up to accept her kiss. Her lips always tasted so very sweet. "Are you ready for Brandonvale?"

She placed her hand on the side of his face. "Not exactly, but I don't have a choice."

"True," he said regretfully. "I believe it's just you and me with the chief of police for the duration."

She laughed ruefully. "That should be fun. I visited relatives in that area once, and it's like a humid bath. Are you prepared for that?"

He kissed her again. "It's Florida. Where is _not_ a humid bath? As long as I have a cool bath and a room next to yours, I'll be fine."

She smiled at him, returning his kiss. In the back of her mind, she hoped everything went smooth. She hoped this with everything inside her.

* * *

A/N: Earlier in the chapter, I mentioned the movie,_ The Terminator_. There was no infringement intended or implied. Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was near dawn when the team met to make the four hour trek to Brandonvale. They decided to take two SUVs. Lockwood, Hurtz, and Ashcroft rode in one. Donovan, Rachel, and Lily rode in the other. Lily, who was to have teamed up with Lockwood, was supposed to ride in the other SUV. However, she protested. She didn't want to ride with Ashcroft. She wanted to ride with Rachel and Donovan. They needed to have a long conversation before they arrived in Brandonvale. She had several pieces of documentation that she didn't want Ashcroft to see. One way or another, she was going to take a side. She didn't think it would be accomplished in the other vehicle.

The agents loaded themselves up quickly, quietly. Lily noticed how Ashcroft eyed her curiously. He was probably wondering why she chose to ride with Rachel and Donovan. She didn't have a chance in breaking that up at all. He wanted to grab her arm, drag her over to their SUV, and take off. He didn't. He wasn't one to get physical with women, but she had her head in the clouds, convinced she was going to be Donovan's soul mate.

Donovan, Rachel, and Lily flipped for who would drive, and Donovan was the odd man out. He climbed behind the wheel. He asked Rachel if she wanted to sit up front, but she declined. Her stomach was a little unsettled, and unlike other folks who felt better up front, she wasn't one of them. Lily climbed into the seat beside Donovan, instantly feeling out of place, the odd woman out. She had a purpose for riding with them. She needed to talk to them about her research. If she didn't say something soon, she would burst.

As Donovan revved the engine and put it in gear, he glanced at Lily from the periphery of one eye. She seemed nervous, tentative. He didn't know what was bringing her feelings on, but if she felt awkward around Rachel, then perhaps she should have ridden in the other car. He didn't say anything directly to her. He simply pulled out of the parking lot and fell safely behind the other car. He glanced at Rachel from the rearview mirror and noticed that she was engrossed in what looked like a legal brief. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on in this car, but he was about to find out. They had a long ride ahead of them, and he was not going to let the silence kill him. He could have turned on the radio, but he wasn't much on listening to music while driving.

"Are you coming out with it or not," Donovan finally asked.

Lily jumped almost three feet out of her seat. They had barely gotten onto the highway, and he already knew something was out of whack. Hell, he probably knew the instant the three of them climbed into the SUV. She didn't know how soon she wanted to get into it, but if she didn't speak, Donovan would keep on prodding. She glanced up at the rearview mirror and noticed that suddenly, Rachel was paying attention as well.

"Coming out with what?" She asked innocently. Shit. Who was she kidding? He was a goddamned interrogator by profession. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"Why did you call my ex-wife?" He asked. "She called after you and said a female agent was asking all kinds of questions about my past."

Stupid bitch. She should have known the woman would call him the first chance she got. She once again wondered if she should change her focus in the FBI. She wouldn't keep her cover very long, now would she? "I'm sorry about that too, Frank. Look, Jack was at my apartment the other night…" She stopped talking, as she glanced at Rachel in the back. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Rachel folded her hands across her lap. "Of course I do. Go on."

Lily sighed. "Okay. Jack was at my apartment the other night. He was insinuating that something was awry with our team. I suppose it has been stuck in his craw since he discovered you were with IA, Rachel. He had this cryptic way of speaking, which was driving me a little crazy. When I had the chance, I went to the computer lab at work, and I-"

"You hacked files you had no reason to hack," Donovan finished for her. He knew it was where Lily's talents lay. "What were you looking for?"

She hated the way Donovan was looking at her. He wasn't looking at her like a woman he had gone to bed with a couple of times. He was scrutinizing her as if she were a suspect. She had really walked in the doo doo, all right. "I don't know what I was looking for, just an explanation. I saw that you had aliases in the CIA, that you were working as a double agent. I saw where Rachel enabled the conviction of a drug dealer using information she stole from an encrypted CIA file. I saw it all. Jack has it in his mind that the two of you are the TSK team. That's why I called your ex-wife, Frank."

Donovan was very angry. He was angry to the point of screaming at her for breaching his files like that. What right did she have to do that? What right did she have to call his damned ex-wife, for God's sake? He had spent the better half of an hour trying to explain to Megan that nothing was wrong, that everything was okay, and it would be fine to send the boys to him this summer. Megan argued with him for so long, he thought he would lose his mind. If Alton and Adam didn't come to Miami because of this cluster fuck, he didn't know if he could ever forgive Lily.

"Frank, she obviously didn't mean any harm," Rachel said from behind him. It was almost as if she could read his mind. She didn't know Megan any better than Lily did, but considering how guarded she was with the boys, she could almost guess. "So, Lily. Have you changed your mind? Do you think Frank and I are TSK?"

She chewed on her thumb nail until it was ragged. She hated pointing fingers at people who were thoroughly not guilty. Then again, what did she know that was different than last night? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. However, she remembered what her thoughts had been. They were just thoughts thrown together.

"The way I see it," Lily began. "If it isn't you and Frank, it's Jack and someone else."

The minute Lily's words were out in the open, Rachel's hand instinctively fell on her stomach. She saw Donovan's eyes dart her way. He was thinking the same thing. She could not fathom the idea that her baby's father was a sick murderer. There was nothing in Jack's past to point that way, was there? He had had an exemplary tenure in the FBI. She had seen nothing but glowing reports of his work. He had won several medals while in service. Up until he moved out, they had been hanging on the wall of their den. However, she knew that Jack had skill with computers as well. He wasn't much of a hacker, but he knew how to make things disappear.

"Lily, what did you find on Jack?" Rachel finally asked.

"Nothing. And I looked until my eyes crossed." She turned in her seat as much as she could with the seat belt on. She looked at Rachel for a very long time. "He knows you're pregnant, Rachel."

Her face whitened immediately. Thank God there were car sick bags close at hand. She grabbed for one just before she vomited all down her sensible blouse. Donovan radioed the other vehicle, told them to go on ahead. They had to make a detour. He pulled the SUV into a nearby service station. The car had barely stopped before Rachel made a dive for the ladies room inside a crowded convenience store. Donovan started to get out to check on her, but Lily placed her hand on his.

"Let me?"

He didn't know if he wanted her to, but he nodded and sat back in the seat. He watched Lily gracefully walk into the store. The ladies room had more than one stall inside. Lily pushed open the door, immediately hearing the industrial grinding noise of either nervous sickness or morning sickness. Whichever it was, Lily hated listening to the sound of it. She could take a lot of things, but listening to another person puke was something she couldn't stand. However, she felt responsible for this particular attack, and spite hell, she was going to make amends.

Lily rapped lightly on the stall door. "Rachel, are you okay?"

The retching finally stopped from within, and a loud _whoosh_ sounded off as she flushed the toilet. "I'm going to be okay," she said weakly, sounding as if she was going to be anything but. "Why are you being so nice to me? I don't deserve it."

Lily sighed. Ah yes. She was talking about the thing with Donovan. No, she didn't want to be nice to her, but she couldn't help it. She actually liked Rachel. She didn't know why. She had thousands of reasons to hate her. "If it didn't work out between us, Rachel, perhaps it wasn't meant to be. I brought this on for you."

Rachel came out of the stall, her face white, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She didn't look one hundred percent just yet. "How did he find out?" She asked in tears. "How? Did he tell you how this came to him?"

Lily took a swatch of paper towel and tried to blot the beads of moisture off Rachel's forehead. "He only said that someone at your OBGYN office spilled it. He's adamant about this child, Rachel. Stubbornly so."

"I can't believe him," she whispered. "He never cared about having kids, never wanted to get married." Rachel moved to the sink and washed her hands. When she turned to grab a couple of paper towels, she focused her eyes on Lily. "You're a good woman, Lily. I haven't given you many reasons to like me, and you may never like me, but I respect you. I never meant to ruin your relationship with Frank."

"I know you didn't," Lily said. "And the same with Jack. It was stupid and juvenile. I never meant to hurt you, either."

Just as Donovan was about to leave the vehicle to check on the women, they came out together. Both of them were laughing. It was not something he expected to see. Perhaps he had judged both women wrongly. They climbed into the car, Lily up front, and Rachel in the back.

He turned in his seat to look at Rachel. She seemed flushed, but looked fine. "Can you continue?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm good in that department."

Approximately five or ten minutes from Brandonvale, the team pulled over at a rest stop. They put away their side arms, hid their shields, and dressed for their covers. Lockwood and Lily were posing as a married couple, third cousins to the deputy. Ashcroft and Hurtz were posing as newspaper writers from another county. Donovan and Rachel were staying with the Chief of Police. They hadn't thought much about their covers, but decided to work on it as they went along. Their first night was to be spent familiarizing themselves with Brandonvale and the fair grounds. It was an intense operation that they had little time to learn.

Dale and Maude Shempert met Rachel and Donovan at their spacious country home. It was built on stilts in the woods. Surrounding the property was swamp land as far as the eye could see. A long set of steps led up to the covered front porch. Maude Shempert told them that she and the husband liked to sit outside to watch the fireflies flit by. Even before the sun set, Rachel could hear the night coming alive. There were frogs praying for rain, cranes screaming in the night, and of course, the shuffle of animals trying to escape the gators. Oh yes, they had been warned about nosing around the marshes at night. There were alligators out here and Rachel had no intention of becoming dinner for one.

The house was similar to a hunter's cabin in its shape, but inside, it was a showplace. The walls were made of pine lumber slabs, just like a cabin. There was a tall open ceiling with a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. Assuming that they were a couple, Maude Shempert showed them to their room. It was huge, with its own fireplace and fancy four poster bed. How in the world a small town Chief of Police could afford all this was beyond Rachel. However, it was gorgeous. There were a series of floor to ceiling windows along one wall. Sliding doors led to their own private deck. Rachel had always considered herself a city girl, but she would trade her Miami house for this room alone. It was absolutely gorgeous.

They had no time to enjoy the view. Chief Shempert, already upset they were here, announced that they needed to go inspect the fairgrounds. Together as a group, they drove out to the darkened area that would serve as their county fair. The way everything was set up, it was spooky and dark, the rides themselves having an appearance of hulking monsters. They each had six sectors to inspect. Chief Shempert stayed with his deputy by their patrol cars. The agents kept contact by Bluetooth.

Lily set off in the direction of the taller rides. There were plenty of places to hide out here. Anyone skulking about could do whatever they wanted. However, if this fair drew large crowds like most did, who would have a chance to grab someone? Then again, if the TSK worked as a pair, one would definitely be the bait while the other waited. And if it was someone like Jack Ashcroft, he could charm a nun out of her panties. She moved around quietly, draped in black, with a small flashlight leading the way. It was incredibly dark right now, but with the fair in full swing the way would be lighted nicely. She moved along, checked out her sector, and was pretty much satisfied with what she saw. That was until Jack Ashcroft jumped out of a shadow and grabbed her.

Lily didn't scream, but she jabbed his ribs a good one with her sharp, skinny elbow. She slapped his chest. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She demanded, ensuring that she turned off her headset.

He laughed heartily, his black eyes shining. "Oh, come on, Lily. It was fun. I wanted to jump out at Rachel, but I was afraid she would call Donovan after me. I also didn't want to bring on a miscarriage."

He was cruel and had some nerve about him. "You're an asshole. What the fuck ever did I see in you?" She cried indignantly. "You try that shit on me Fair night, and you'll taste the butt of my gun, Chester."

His eyes were still sparkling. "Okay, okay, I'll go my own way. I just thought you would laugh. Later, babe. Watch for those shadows."

As he walked away, she remembered it was something he had said before. More and more she was leaning toward him as the killer. It was hard to comprehend. Hard to understand that as long as he had been an agent, he could also be a killer. It made no sense. Who ever heard of a killer FBI agent? She hadn't. She turned in the other direction where she could see the penlight used by Jess Lockwood. Now, he was a hottie. Perhaps she would get to know him better, since she was now playing his wifey.

Rachel picked the south end of the fairgrounds. This was the area where most of the animal exhibits would be. There were a series of three covered stalls that might hold a hundred animals or more. There were bays for pigs, stalls for horses, and areas for prized cows. If someone knew the layout of the fairgrounds, one could easily dig a trench to hold a victim hostage. She could see where, if a person had time, they could build a box large enough to hold at least one person. These were areas that needed security guards all the time. This area did not give her a good feeling at all. It gave her the creeps.

She moved between the sheds, flashing her light in each stall to ensure that nothing like a trench had been dug yet. She moved along swiftly, eager to get back with another human being. When she rounded a corner, she ran right into Jack. She stepped back, deactivated her headset, and slapped his face as hard as she could.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

He smiled at her. Sheesh. These FBI chicks had bugs up their asses. "Working. What does it look like?" He walked around her in a perfect circle, eyeing her cautiously. "You certainly don't look pregnant. How's our kid?"

She didn't like the way he was circling her as if he were a vulture. He looked so very different than the man she used to love. He was a former shell of himself. Rachel said nothing back in response to his question. She glared at him as he continued to circle her as if she were his prey. Maybe he _was_ TSK. If he wasn't, she knew one agent who needed time off immediately. She would mention this to Fitzgerald as soon as they returned to Miami.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" He asked, finally coming to a stop in front of her. "I know you're pregnant, and I know the baby is mine. You weren't with Frank long enough for him to knock you up. I, on the other hand, was. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know until you left for Favron," she told him. She had failed to mention that she came out to Favron, but he probably already knew. "By then, we were over."

"We won't be over until our little one turns eighteen, babe," he said with a smile. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm sorry for being such a jerk. When we go back to Miami, I'll move back in with you and we can start over. We have a child on the way. I know how much you have always wanted to be a mother."

"But you," she growled as she dug her index finger into his chest, "never wanted kids. You never wanted marriage. Why now? Why the sudden interest in something you never wanted? What if I don't want to keep the baby?"

"You would never have an abortion, you would never put the baby up for adoption. I know you, Rachel, I know you better than you know yourself," he said gently. "I'm serious, babe. I want to get back together for this baby. A child needs two parents. You know how I feel about that."

She did. His parents divorced when he was still a baby, then they later died in a bizarre accident. Jack was close to his mother, but hated the mention of his father's name. If he had seen the man on the street, he would have spat in his direction. "Two people can raise a child without being married. Frank does."

He made a face at the mention of Donovan's name. "Who has the kids, Rachel? His ex. I don't want you to raise a child without me being in his life. I'm not letting you do that to my kid, Rachel. I won't do to my child what my father did to me. A kid needs a father, two parents, in the same house."

She laughed sarcastically. "What are you suggesting, Jack? That we run away and get married? You left me, you left me before I had even cheated on you. Suddenly, you want to make a happy family the moment you find out I'm pregnant? I can't marry you, Jack. I won't."

"Suit yourself, Rachel," he said. "I don't mind fighting for what I think is mine."

"Go ahead," she said quietly. "Do what you wish. Will you leave me alone now? I have a lot of ground to cover."

Ashcroft tried to take her hand, but she wouldn't let him. He held up his hands in defeat. "Do what you want for now, Rachel. Watch those shadows, though. There are a lot of them out there, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to my child."

She turned away from him before he left her. She nearly ran away in the night, going somewhere, anywhere, wherever he wasn't. That was where she wanted to be. Rachel found herself in an area that Heath Hurtz had already checked. She could see the rest of the agents milling about, coming together at their agreed rendezvous point. Donovan immediately noticed that neither Rachel nor Lily were speaking much. He saw that Lily had literally attached herself to her 'husband' for the duration of their stay. Rachel, on the other hand, stood off to herself, away from the group. Something had happened to both women. When he looked at Ashcroft, he noticed that he seemed to be having a ball. His enthusiasm was both inappropriate and odd.

It was late by the time Rachel and Donovan found their way back to the Shempert's home. Rachel didn't bother taking a shower just yet. She covered herself with mosquito repellent and went out to sit on the deck. There were two wicker glider chairs. Once she sank down into the cushions, she felt thousands of times better. She looked up when Donovan decided to join her. When she first sat down, she didn't think she wanted company, but as soon as he joined her, she was profoundly grateful for his presence.

"What happened out there?" Donovan asked.

The lady of the house had set out a tall pitcher of iced tea. Rachel poured herself a glass and drank almost half of it in one long gulp. "Jack asserted his right as papa to my little stranger."

Donovan sighed angrily. "He must have done something to Lily as well. She seemed messed up. Although I couldn't ask, she was hanging onto Jess."

"He's a good looking young man. I might have grabbed onto him as well," she said jokingly. "But I like those tall, long haired types."

Donovan poured his own glass of tea. He sipped tentatively, although it was delicious, he wanted to savor it. For all of Dale Shempert's ire, his wife certainly was his exact opposite. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not really," she answered. "He irritated me. He asked me to marry him for the sake of the baby."

He, too, knew about Ashcroft's childhood. Like Rachel, he also knew the other man was a staunch bachelor uninterested in fathering a brood of children. Until he met Rachel, he was a Johnny Appleseed type, he loved spreading it around. "Was your answer no or fuck no?"

Rachel, in the process of sipping her tea, damned near felt it spewing out of her nose. When her laughter died out some, she shook her head. "Oh, it was no, all right. It has taken me an amazingly short time to forget why I loved him. Is that funny?"

He looked her way and shook his head. "No, because after all the time we spent separating and reuniting, it has taken only a few milliseconds for me to realize I love you. And not in that generic way I spoke it before."

She was rather touched, feeling the bitter sting of tears burning her eyes, desperate to be shed. She kept telling herself she _was not_ going to cry. "I know what you mean. I love you, too, probably more so now. But it's unfair to you, Frank, asking you to step in, be my lover, when I'm carrying Jack's baby. I want you to be happy, Donovan. I want you to find a woman who can give you what you need. I want you to go back and be with Lily. She is a wonderful person who deserves you. You don't need a woman who is pregnant with another man's baby. Stop pretending and flirting, my love. Go for Lily."

"Do you believe that is the answer to make us both happy?" He began. He walked over to her chair, proffered his hand. She took it willingly enough, coming up slowly to her feet. "Lily deserves love. I completely understand that, but I don't know if she was meant to be with me. I wanted you, Sloane. I _still_ want you. When the anger subsided, I realized why I fought you at every turn, just like you fought me. It's what people do when they're crazy about each other but too afraid to admit it."

Rachel smiled, bit her lip, and blinked tears out of her eyes. "I love you, Frank. I don't think you need me. I don't think you need someone with all this baggage. Make Lily happy, make yourself happy. Patch things up with Lily. She is who I want to be."

"Rachel, I love you. When I first saw you after coming back to Florida, I loved you then. I was bursting with it. Megan was a substitute for you. I wouldn't trade my sons for anything, but if I had been thinking clearly when Rivera shot me, I would have begged you to stay." He kissed her forehead, eyelids, and ended with her lips. Their tongues touched as a bolt of electricity shot through them. "Do you love me?"

Tears had begun to slowly drop down her cheeks. She was chewing on her bottom lip like mad. "You know I do," she whispered. "You're all I can think about, day or night. The day you came to me after Aspen died, I wanted to tell you then. But you don't need a baby dragged into your life. Your sons are just two years away from college."

"Stop telling me what I need," he said evenly. "Whatever happens this time will eventually lead us where we should have gone back in college. I won't let Jack Ashcroft stand in my way. What I need, what I want, is you. If you decide to keep your baby, welcome it into a family, Rachel, _our _family."

"You don't know what you're saying," she said softly.

He smiled down at her, into her lovely, lovely sapphire eyes. "I think I do. I think I've made myself clear. "I am so very in love with you. If you would do me the honor, I would like for you to welcome me back into your heart."

In a move she had done before, she took his hand and placed it on her chest, over her beating heart. "You never left."

Donovan kissed her deeply, tasting her sweet mouth, allowing her to taste his. He tasted of strawberries and wine. He worked his hands underneath her blouse, seeking and finding her breasts. He cupped them with both hands, caressing them in slow, circular motions. Her hands worked his shirt from his pants. Her hands caressed every inch of flesh she could reach. While kissing him deeply, she unsnapped his pants, and drew his zipper down slowly. Her hand reached inside and her fingers gave him a gentle caress. He groaned underneath his breath as her hand performed a wicked caress. Her work was quick, her touch light. He hardened instantly. He took hold of her wrist, breaking the kiss at the same time.

"There is nothing I couldn't give you," he said against her lips. "Nothing I would ever withhold. Just let me have you, _all_ of you."

"It's yours," she said softly. "From now, to the future, and beyond." She kissed him again. "Let's go inside. Make love to me, Frank. Make me never have the desire to lose you again. Make me want no other again, for the rest of my natural life. Don't ever doubt my love for you again."

"Never, my love," he said, his lips almost against her ear.

"Let's go inside before we give the Shempert's a peep show," she said, pulling away from his embrace.

He reluctantly moved inside behind her. She didn't bother locking the sliding glass doors. They should have never parted after their last encounter. She should have had more faith in him, in his love for her. She would never forgive herself for allowing him to languish in Hawaii, alone, and bitter. Her one regret was Lily. Donovan may have not been able to sense it, but she knew how Lily felt. They were crazy for doing this, crazy as a squirrel madly foraging for acorns.

There was a small bed near the windows. Knowing that they would have privacy all night long, if they wanted it, neither of them made an effort to close the blinds.

Rachel took joy in undressing him so very slowly. She kissed every inch of his body, moving over him, her mouth nipping at the scars on his chest. A fevered wanting attacked them both. It forced Donovan to sit up in bed, removing everything. Rachel had begun undressing herself, but the task was taken over by Donovan. As soon as she was free of her clothing barriers, he laid her down onto the soft bed. His lips and tongue did amazing things to her. She was mad with desire, begging him to end her torment.

When he entered her, she dug her fingernails into his back, leaving deep grooves. He didn't seem to mind. Their lovemaking was the way of the tides. They crested and subsided, subsided, and crested. Their souls mated, became an unstoppable force, one to be reckoned with. At the end of it, Rachel molded her body into his, trying her best to remember every line of his body, the taut muscles, the incredible way he loved a woman. They loved each other as if this would be the last time they made love.

After, they donned robes and carried their pitcher of iced tea back outside to the deck. They sat together in one chair, she on his lap. The only sounds were the area wildlife. Rachel felt safe in Donovan's strong arms, she felt safer here than anywhere on the planet. They drank their iced tea and watched as curious possums waddled their way around looking for a garbage can to raid. They smiled and made a game of finding the most animals. Every now and again, they would kiss and whisper words of no interest to anyone else who might not have made love with their partners tonight.

He slid his hand down the front of her robe, feeling the frantic beating of her heart. It was incredible to be with her, to feel like this. He ran his fingers gently over her flesh, feeling the familiarity of another body. To have her back, to have her heart, was an amazing gift he didn't intend on frittering away.

The night sky was dark, there was little light filtering in through the mass of trees littering the Shempert property. Donovan had never felt so alive or connected in his life. "How would you like to live out here some day?"

His question was unexpected, so much so, that she didn't know how to answer. "It is beautiful, Frank. I think I would love it very much. It reminds me of this cabin my parents once had. I loved going there as a child."

"You know something?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling against her.

"What's that?" She asked with a tired grin.

"I love you," he said. "I didn't know how much that was true until tonight."

She smiled and snuggled further into his embrace. "Me too, Frank," she whispered. "After the fair, after we hopefully catch a psycho, I think I'd like to have a place like this for the weekends. It would be one bitch of a commute from Miami every morning."

He chuckled lazily and caressed her middle. "Vacation spot? Summer lodge? I like that idea. The boys would love it. They're all about nature."

She placed her hands over his. "Then let's find a place here."

Her words made him immensely happy. He didn't expect her to want to move so fast. Although her child was Ashcroft's, he would love the baby as much as his own boys. Before his divorce, Donovan had spoken of having another child. Megan insisted on not having any more. He wanted a big family, with at least four kids, maybe more.

"We will, when we get back to Miami," he said. "You'll love it and so will the stranger."

"You're an amazing man, Franklin Wilson Donovan, one with whom I'm very much in love," she said. "I want a house just like this, with our own spins, of course."

"Yes," he said, loving the fantasy the more they spoke about it.

"I'm sorry about Lily," she began. "She is a nice girl, serious about her job, serious about you. Do you regret not seeing her anymore?"

"No, none. We can work out our differences. She tried to help us both earlier. Remember? She deserves the best, better than I could ever give her. What you have is what she doesn't. My heart."

"I wish I could be sorry about Jack," she said sadly. "I can't be. He can have time with the baby, I won't deny him that. What I will deny is his constant demands that I marry him."

"He'll be okay," Donovan said. "As long as he has access to your baby, he'll be all right. It was hard for me at first without my boys. But I've accepted it. The ideal situation would be for them to live with me. Since they can't, they are only a phone call, a plane ticket, or an email away."

"Whatever happens with this case, I'll always be there for you," she said. "I think fate intervened and brought us here. It also has struck up an idea for us to get a home here. Imagine that."

"I can." And he could. He could see them in their own home, sitting out on the porch, drinking iced tea. He could see his boys running around playing football or baseball. He could see the little one growing inside Rachel's body, playing with its step brothers. He could see it all, and a wonderful picture it was. Absolutely wonderful.

"Wow, I think I'm going to cry," she said with a smile. "It's a wonderful fantasy that we need to make come true soon. Do you want to go to bed? I'm worn out."

Donovan kissed the side of her neck. "I think I'll sit out here for a little while longer, if that's okay with you."

"It is. Don't be long, though. Okay?"

As she stood to say good night, he promised her he wouldn't keep her alone in bed long. She disappeared into the house and Donovan focused his eyes on movement out in the swamp that made a startling resemblance to an alligator. Whatever it was, it didn't want to emerge out of the water just yet. Another moment and he would join Rachel. Right now, he needed to think about some things, and he thought best when alone.

Oh ho, but Frank Donovan was not alone. In the murky depths of the swamp, a man watched as Donovan contemplated his life changes. If he was close enough, he might have been able to shoot Donovan where he sat. He was off guard, distracted. If he stayed out at least another hour, it would give him time to visit Rachel Sloane. He had plans for Lily Wells as well. However, Sloane was an easier target as long as he could keep her away from Frank Donovan.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Nancy Beth Gooch and Belle Steele were excited about the start of the county fair. Both of them were brunette beauties who couldn't wait until the pageant. Although the two girls were the 'bestest' of friends, there was some competition playing along. Belle thought she had more of a chance to win than Nancy Beth. She went by two names and was from a small town in Arkansas. She might have won many pageants out there, but Brandonvale was a different story. She and Belle had gone out to the fairgrounds earlier. The workers were busily setting up the rickety rides and the kid stuff. Neither girl was interested in that. They were wanting the pageant to come along so one of them could win. Belle, of course, thought she had it in the bag. Nancy Beth had the same attitude. Thus far, they were the first to arrive. Someone made mention that a new girl who had recently moved here would also be in the competition. They immediately dismissed her. After all, they were the two hottest chicks in town. Just ask any of the guys on the football team, and they would certainly agree.

Their parents, however, were subscribers to the paper, and they read the letter supposedly sent by some sicko. When both sets of parents found out, they immediately wanted to take their daughters out of the competition. After some tall begging, their folks relented and allowed them to enter the pageant. It would be a wonderful night. Nancy Beth even teased Belle by stating that she just might bleach her hair blonde so not to attract the nut job out looking for girls to kidnap. Besides, they didn't believe the Miami nut job was coming here. Why would he bother? He had more to look for in a large city such as that. They were young, they thought they were invincible. Their parents would tell them repeatedly that they _were not _invincible. But what did adults know anyway? They were all weird. They couldn't wait for everything to start. They weren't the only ones. The duo known as TSK were loving every minute of it themselves.

Lincoln had rented out a rat hole of a room twenty miles out of town. He had gotten here days ago. He had had plenty of time to look around, feel out the environment. He saw plenty of saucy little girls, too. There were two in particular who caught his eye. And one would have to be completely in the dark if they didn't guess Nancy Beth or Belle. He didn't know their names, but they were similar to each other. Same color hair, same sapphire hued eyes, and nubile little bodies. They were also completely oblivious. Lincoln had gone over to watch the carnival dicks setting up their games and rides. The two girls were there, watching as well, cooing over who they thought was cute or who they thought was a loser. He stood and watched them for over an hour. They had no idea he was there. If there hadn't been so many witnesses, and if Holly had gotten here sooner, he could have nabbed them both. He had plans, big ones. He was from Long Bush, Florida. It was right outside Brandonvale, it was just smaller, poorer, and deeper in the woods. He had a place to hide them until he was ready to see to them. He had to steer clear of the FBI, because there were agents swarming the fucking place.

He turned toward the door when he heard a knock. He knew this place didn't have room service or a turn down courtesy, so it had to be Holly. At least, it _better_ be her. He went to the door, peeked out the peephole, and it was her. Thank God for that. He opened the door to let her in, and the first thing she did was throw her luggage onto one of the double beds. It screeched in protest at the weight. How much did she fucking need anyway? They weren't planning on being here that long. Sometimes, he wondered why he messed with her. She made a good accomplice and all, helping him when he needed it, but she also had her faults. Sometimes she liked to act smarter than he. He definitely didn't like that.

"What took you so long to get here," he demanded.

"Traffic was murder, Lincoln," she snapped. "Sue me."

He wasn't one to beat on women, well, women with whom he was involved. However, today, she deserved it. He backhanded her hard. "Don't get mouthy, Holly. We have a lot to do before the pageant."

She rubbed the side of her face, gazing at him reproachfully. One call from her would end all this. She knew the right people to contact. "Who are we picking?" She asked instead, instantly crushing the idea of telling on him.

"These two."

He gave her his digital camera and showed her the pictures. Neither of them knew he took their picture. They were too busy looking at the guys, wondering how big their dicks were. He knew girls like this, that's all they thought about. He had a special liking to one of them. He thought he heard the other girl call her Nancy Beth. She had a slow drawl, a heavier accent that wasn't the norm around these parts.

Holly stared at them, instantly knowing which one Lincoln would like. She had the hair, the eyes, and the body. There was something she had as well. Pretty hands. This one would lose her hands. What about the other one? She seemed more snotty in the photo, more sure of herself, but her eyes were the most prominent feature she possessed. He would probably take her eyes. He liked doing that.

"We have work to do, Holly, and not a whole hell of a lot of time to do it. Get on some grubby clothes, we're digging some trenches."

* * *

The night that Donovan sat outside long after Rachel had gone to bed, he had been contemplating a few things here and there. He still hadn't come to any solid decisions based on those contemplations, but at least he had time to think. He came into the bedroom, noticing that Rachel was fast asleep. He sat on the side of the bed and slowly came out of his clothing, trying hard not to wake her. However, the instant he laid beside her, her eyes came open. He smiled, apologized, and promptly made love to her. They lay in a tangle of arms and legs by the next morning.

Donovan awoke before her, he showered and dressed. While Rachel slept, he went out on the deck to look at the woods beyond the house. He thought he was being watched last night. He couldn't see anyone, of course, but the feeling still remained. Someone was out there, and that someone was watching him for some reason. He believed it was the killer. He also believed the killer walked amongst them. More and more, the evidence pointed at Ashcroft. Each time a murder occurred, it happened near him, or he happened to show up at the same time. He didn't know why he refused to see it in the past. Was it because at one point Jack Ashcroft was his friend? It was hard to believe that a friend like him would step off the deep end so horribly. If he was the killer, then who was his accomplice? He didn't like being here, something terrible was bound to happen.

He turned when he noticed Rachel coming out onto the deck. He had meant to close the doors, but he thought the noise would disturb her. She approached him from the back, leaned her cheek against him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He placed his hands over hers. She smelled so very nice. It wasn't perfume or a bath wash, it was just her own smell. After a moment, she moved away when she felt him turning toward her. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tracing gentle lines along her mouth. The way things were right now, it was hard to believe they had epic fights the first time they were together.

"Did I wake you?" He asked.

"Sort of. I noticed you missing beside me, so I came looking for you. I assume we hit the midway today?"

"Yeah, but the fair won't be in full swing until tonight. We need to meet with all the girls in the pageant," he said. "We aren't necessarily telling them who we are, they think we're pageant officials."

"Pageant officials? We certainly make a motley looking crew, don't we?"

He smiled. "I've been told before I resemble an actor, maybe I can pass for him as a judge. What do you think?"

She laughed. "Oh, Frank, you kill me. I'm sorry, but you're so much more hotter than he."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a devilish grin. "We need to get the team together for a meeting."

He dreaded this fair, he completely dreaded it.

* * *

Lily woke up in bed alone. She shared a room with Jess Lockwood, but their beds were two twin sets. When she looked to the next bed, Lockwood was still asleep. She hadn't heard from Donovan yet, so she wasn't sure when they had a meeting scheduled. What she needed to do was get out her laptop and do some more research. She left the bed quietly, hoping she wouldn't awaken Lockwood. She didn't. She jumped into a pair of leggings, a tunic top, and sandals. Once more, she looked back at Lockwood. He was still out. Good.

She carried her laptop outside, hoping fervently that she could get a WiFi connection. To her utter delight, she did. Hallelujah. The couple housing them had a sun porch, and it appeared to be vacant. She walked toward it, found the screen door open, and entered the sun porch. She set up her laptop and went to work.

Lily Wells prided herself as an excellent hacker. She knew Donovan's old friend, Cody, and he had been her mentor all the way through her training. She knew how to get around firewalls, etc., and could usually find anything she wanted. She opened her hacking program and waited. Lily was no outdoor kind of girl, but she mused this was nice. Her attention went back to her laptop when she heard a loud 'ding,' which meant her program opened without a hitch. She typed in Jack Ashcroft's name and waited. Within a few minutes, she had what she needed. His hometown, which was not far from here. She scribbled the name of the town on a piece of paper and slipped it down her bra. She then turned off the laptop. And it was good for her. By then, Lockwood was awake.

"Donovan called. We have a team meeting at nine," Lockwood said.

His chest was bare and he wore a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. He looked pretty hot. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. Shaking it away, she said, "Take notes for me, Jess. I have to take a trip this morning. I'll be back in a few hours."

He scratched his head and smiled at her. "Okay, Lil, but it's your funeral."

"I think Donovan will understand," she said softly.

Leaving Jess behind, Lily grabbed their SUV and took off on her own adventure. It took about thirty minutes to find the town of Long Bush, Florida. It was a small town, more so than Brandonvale. According to what she found on her computer, Jack Ashcroft came from Long Bush. She had never heard of it. Before she went any further, she drove out to the city hall. In small towns, everyone knew everyone. She was counting on that. She pulled into the parking lot and went inside.

She was met by an overweight woman in her mid-sixties with dyed black hair that looked horribly gruesome on her. "What can I help you with?" She asked nicely.

Lily felt horrible for thinking badly of her, but she couldn't help it. "Yes, I'm looking for the Ashcroft residence."

The woman made an odd face. She looked as if she couldn't believe someone was asking for the Ashcrofts. And Lily was right. She was. No one had asked about that family for several years. "What do you need to look for, dear? No one has lived there in some years. It was condemned by the city twenty years ago."

Condemned? Why would anyone condemn a property? "May I ask why?"

A pained expression came on her face. Why anyone would want to visit that property, she would never know. "Well, some time ago, there was a fire in their horse stables. All the horses were burned alive. The elder Ashcrofts were also burned in the fire and died there. The south corner of the house is the only part untouched. There is a shed out there, too, but no one uses it."

Interesting. Very interesting. Lily was more intrigued than she had ever been. Hadn't Ashcroft told them his parents divorced early on and were then killed? "Is that so? Could you please tell me where to find it? Also, do you know what happened to Jack Ashcroft?"

Another pained expression came over her face. "I could, miss. But I would advise against it. It's dank, old, and dangerous. Albert and Lucille Ashcroft's boy was sent to the state hospital for a while. You see, he had a breakdown. He was really young back then. Lots of people think he started the fire. Last I heard, he moved to Miami and married some gal out there."

Lily's heart began to pound in her chest. Unbelievable. There had been nothing like that on record. And _married_? She didn't think the woman was talking about Rachel, either. "I really need to go out there, ma'am. I would appreciate directions."

"Of course," she said. "I don't mind helping a bit. Just be careful. Lots of rotting boards and things out there."

After securing directions out to the Ashcroft property, Lily was on her way. It took only a few minutes to reach it. It was out in the country, the property surrounded by trees and swamps all around. It looked more like something she would see in Louisiana. There were only two structures. One was half the house. She didn't know why someone didn't come out here and tear it down. She put on a pair of heavy rubber gloves and grabbed an evidence kit in case she found something. She also donned a pair of heavy rubber boots. As soon as she was put together, she began to walk toward the buildings left on the Ashcroft property. The house looked completely unsafe, but the shed wasn't so bad. It actually looked like it had been used recently.

Lily went over to the shed and saw that the door was locked. A heavy padlock hung from the loop on the front door. She cursed heavily at that sight. She didn't bring any bolt cutters, but she did have a small hacksaw in her kit. She could easily cut a hole in one of the boards and pry it loose. She set about this grim task with gusto. It was hotter than hell out here, so she had to keep wiping sweat out of her eyes. She had cut a square piece out of the shed wall that was big enough for her to try and yank the board out. She grabbed the jagged piece she had cut and began to pull on it. It was hard work. Someone came out here regularly and maintained the shed. Was that someone Jack Ashcroft? She didn't know, but she knew she fucking wanted to see what was inside that shed.

The board was in good shape, but it was weak enough for her to force it out and up. There was a small space left. It was large enough for her to squeeze through. She left her tools outside and crawled through the hole. When she brought herself up to her feet, she saw that the shed was fairly large with a dirt floor. There were lock boxes of all sizes inside. After a moment, she began to notice an odor. One never forgot the smell of a dead body. She turned and reached out the hole she made for her evidence kit and saw. She then walked over to the first lock box. It, of course, was locked. However, she had a small screwdriver in her kit. They usually worked wonders with the types of locks on the boxes. The first one she went to was smaller than the rest. She took her screwdriver and went to work prying off the lock. It snapped within minutes. The smell of death was overwhelming now. She had to dig out a mask from her kit. She slowly opened the lock box. As soon as she opened it, she dropped it. It was a stupid move, but she was surprised. There was a glob of tissue inside. She wasn't a medical examiner, but she was pretty sure it was Nona Pope's larynx.

Lily turned away and fought the urge to puke. It was overwhelming her. Oh dear God, what had she walked into here? She blindly reached for her cell phone. No signal. _Shit_! She had to get out of here where she had a signal and call Frank Donovan. She had found the lair of the TSK, and it was Jack Ashcroft. It had been Jack Ashcroft all along. Heaven help them all. She darted for the hole she'd made. She managed to crawl half way out when she saw a pair of feet. They belonged to a woman. She was wearing high heeled shoes. Before Lily had a chance to react, the woman grabbed a hand full of her hair and pulled as hard as she could to get Lily out of the shed. Lily screamed and cursed.

Thinking fast, Lily balled her hands into fists and ground them into the woman's feet. She bawled out a curse word of her own, but let go of Lily's hair quickly. She then managed to escape the shed. She was about to attack the red haired bitch when someone attacked her from behind. She immediately lost all her air. There was a rope wrapped tightly around her throat.

"You were smarter than I thought," Jack Ashcroft said. "Too bad for you. You should have brought back up. Isn't that the first thing you're taught in training?"

Lily would have said something if she could, but she was quickly losing consciousness. When she completely blacked out, Ashcroft dropped her limp body down to the ground. "When I fix the fucking shed," Ashcroft said, "we'll hide her in here."

Mary nodded. "I'm sorry, baby. I tried to get here before she did."

"Don't worry about it, we have her now. She didn't warn the others. Let's get busy."

* * *

Donovan, Lockwood, Hurtz, Ashcroft, and Rachel met in the conference room at the Brandonvale Police Department. He was irritated that Lily hadn't answered her voice mail. Lockwood, who was sharing a room with her, said that she had needed to step out for a bit, but would be back in time for their meeting. Donovan didn't know if he was angry or worried.

"We will need to brief Lily later," Donovan began. "As for tonight, it's the first fair opening. This is when the pageants will be held. All of us have a role to play. We need to stick as closely to the contestants as necessary, especially those with dark hair."

"Hurtz and I will be taking care of the press side of things," Ashcroft said. "What is everyone else going to do here tonight?"

Donovan was irritated at how Ashcroft seemed to believe they were all just goofing off tonight. "Lockwood is posing as security. Rachel and Lily are make up artists. Does that satisfy you, Jack?"

Ashcroft smiled sweetly. "Surely." He just didn't know that his precious Lily was tied up in his shed with his tokens. Two girls would soon join them, so would Rachel. Everyone would die but Rachel. She was having his kid. There was no way she would die yet. As soon as she had his kid, he and Holly would raise it. "How long do you think we should monitor the fair?"

"Throughout the duration, because if nothing happens tonight, plenty will happen later on," Donovan said.

"Are we finished?" Ashcroft asked. "I need to pick up some supplies if I'm acting as a reporter for the county paper."

Donovan shot his eyes at Ashcroft. He didn't like how he was acting. "Yes. If anyone sees Lily between now and tonight, please pass along the information."

* * *

Lily awoke later with a sore throat and a headache. Mary Gold and Jack Ashcroft had tied her up and threw her in the trophy room. The smell of death was horrid. There was no escaping it. They replaced her mask with a gag. After repairing the hole she cut in the shed, Ashcroft left for a meeting with the team. Mary stayed here with Lily. She sat in the shed and watched Lily. She didn't know how the other woman could stand to be in here with that smell. It was literally making Lily sick. She had nearly vomited twice, resisting to prevent choking on her own puke.

"Lincoln has plans for you," Mary said. "Nice plans. He only wanted two girls tonight. Now he's going to have three. Oh, and the lady he got pregnant. She's going to be here, too. See, me and Lincoln tried to have a baby, but I'm not able to. So, your friend is going to give me a baby. Won't that be nice of her?"

Lily glared at the other woman. Who the fuck did she think she was? Further, how did she think Lily could answer her gagged? Didn't she realize that the team would miss her, because she was a part of them. They were in Jack Ashcroft's old home town. He was getting crazier by the second. It suddenly made sense to Lily. She could see how he managed to pass all the FBI psychological evaluations and other tests. Mary had rearranged some things, making sure that he passed and had impeccable references. The sick fuck had burned up his family, turning a shed into a trophy room. What the hell? If she could get out of these bonds, she would make sure this bitch wouldn't touch another person.

"I know what you're thinking," Mary said. "You think that if you get loose, you're gonna kick my ass, huh? Well, honey, my Lincoln has left me prepared. If you escape, I am to shoot you on the spot. I know how, too. He taught me. So, whatever you're thinking, you might as well stop."

Lily mumbled a 'fuck you' to Mary. The rest of the team were pretty smart. They wouldn't let Jack Ashcroft or Mary Gold get away with this.

* * *

The first event of the annual county fair of Brandonvale was well on its way. Hundreds of young girls converged on the tent to sign in for the pageants. Donovan, Hurtz, Lockwood, Rachel, and Ashcroft saw many girls pass by them. Several had dark hair, only two had dark hair with sapphire eyes. One was Nancy Beth Gooch, the other Belle Steele. They all took notice of this, as well as Jack Ashcroft. He was dressed well for his assignment. He wore a press badge, fake glasses, and carried a digital camera around his neck. Sooner or later, he could get them off to themselves.

Rachel worked with the females, signing them up, putting them into different age divisions. She noted all the females with the traits special to TSK. There were two. She put gold stars on their applications and then handed those off to Donovan. Those girls would need extra attention. The room was filled with girls, it was chaotic and worrisome. They all expected TSK to strike tonight.

After the chaos of having the girls signed up for the pageant, the group broke for lunch. Rachel and Donovan picked a small café a few blocks away from the fairgrounds. They ordered their food and sipped iced tea while they waited.

"I haven't heard from Lily, Frank, I'm worried," she said.

He nodded. "I noticed. She wouldn't stay away so long."

"No," she said. "Why don't I keep my eye on Jack and see where he goes? Maybe he knows where Lily is?"

"I don't like that, Rachel. It could be dangerous."

"Maybe," she said.

"Maybe, hell," he said. "It is. Wait until I can go with you."

Rachel drank some of her iced tea. "Okay, okay."

"While we have a moment, I'd like to talk to you about something," he said. "When we get back to Miami, I'm going to find a new place to live. Would you consider living with me?"

She smiled. "Wow. Our first shack up in about ten years? Sure, I'd love to."

He leaned toward her and kissed her softly. "Love you, Iris."

She accepted his kiss. "Love you too, Wilson."

When they finished lunch, Donovan went back to the fairgrounds to try and locate Lily. Rachel begged off and said that she wanted to stay behind to prepare herself for their next step. What she was doing would send Donovan off the deep end. Rachel saw Ashcroft jump into his rented car. He didn't take Hurtz with him, so he intended to do something alone. She jumped into the SUV they drove down here and followed him at a safe distance.

They drove for about thirty miles until Rachel saw Jack turn down a dirt road. She didn't follow him down that road. Instead, she pulled off to the side and got out of the vehicle. She had her side arm, so she felt relatively safe. She walked down the road close to where he turned off. When she got close, she could see half of a burned house. She moved further onward until she saw Ashcroft's rental. She hung back. She heard him talking to someone, but couldn't make out who it was. Rachel stepped into some brush where she could see better while staying hidden. He was standing near a shed, talking to a familiar looking woman. It was Mary Gold, Nathan Fitzgerald's secretary. What the hell? He didn't know Mary Gold. When she saw him kiss her, she was shocked. What the hell was going on?

Instead of confronting them, she walked back toward the SUV. It was time to call Donovan. When she climbed into the car and grabbed her phone, there was no signal. She had no choice but to start the car and go back to Brandonvale. She had barely gotten the SUV started when Ashcroft's little red rental car came out from the road. He looked directly at her. Sweating now, Rachel gunned the engine and floored it. The SUV almost fishtailed, but she quickly righted it. On this country road, there was no traffic, so it didn't take long for Ashcroft to catch up to her.

Rachel could see the little red car advancing quickly. She jammed her foot down on the gas and managed to get ahead of him. What she didn't know was that Ashcroft's car was a V8. As soon as he floored it, he was on her, ramming the back of the SUV. Each hit threw Rachel forward, keeping her from going faster in the SUV. Each time she got ahead, Ashcroft caught up. He rammed the back the of SUV hard, enough to dent the bumper. Rachel was swiftly losing control of the big SUV. She was heading toward a ditch. She jerked the steering wheel to the left, but it was not enough. The car hit the ditch at sixty miles per hour. She was saved only by the seat belt and air bag.

She released the seat belt, struggled past the air bag, and suddenly realized her nose was bleeding. The window was already down, so she was able to climb out. The ditch was dry, thank God, but it would be a hard climb out of here. She didn't know if Jack had crashed. She hoped he did. As soon as she was out of the wrecked SUV, she checked her shoulder holster. Her side arm was still there. After a steep climb out of the drainage ditch, she managed to drag her body up to the main road. Sitting not two feet away was the little red car Jack had been driving. The front end was ruined and smoking. Jack was no where to be seen. She hoped he was knocked out in the front seat.

Cautiously, Rachel walked down the side of the little country road. About half a mile up, there was a farm house. Hopefully, she would get help there. They would have a phone and she would call Frank. She barely got five steps down the road when she heard the fast clocking of feet behind her. She didn't turn around. It was Jack. She was sure of it. She ran as fast as she could. She then remembered her side arm.

Rachel stopped, drew her weapon, and held it level with Jack's leg. She fired. He anticipated the shot and darted to the side. She fired again, but again, he was able to dodge it. Rachel then began to run again. The farmhouse was closer now. She would be safe. She would call Frank. Behind her, Jack went into a flying tackle and hit her body full force. She fell to the road, face first, and hurt her already bloody nose. She reached blindly for her gun, but Jack was on her. He took her piece and planted the muzzle against the back of her head.

"You're pregnant, baby, so I won't kill you. I'm going to hold you until you give birth, then you're going to give the baby to my wife. Do you understand?"

He spoke to her in a rational voice, one so sane it was insane. "Fuck you, Jack. You're not touching my baby."

"I'm sorry, Rachel. The baby belongs to me and Holly," he said gently. He had a radio with him, the kind police officers use. "Hey, babe. I'm just down the road with Rachel. Could you bring some rope, a gag, and come get us?"

The radio crackled. "You bet, Lincoln. I'll be there in about five minutes."

"Thanks, babe."

_What now_, Rachel thought. _What the fuck now?_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

By the time Mary came with the car and the materials Ashcroft asked for, Rachel realized she was in a mess, not just physically. Her face had an abrasion from her fall to the road. Her nose was bleeding and she basically felt like shit. While Ashcroft held her, Mary tied her up. They dragged her over to Mary's car and threw her in the back seat. While she looked on, Mary and Ashcroft pushed the rental car into the ditch as well. When they were finished, they went to the car and got inside.

Ashcroft turned in his seat to look at Rachel. "We're taking you to the ER to make sure the baby is okay. And when that's finished, we're going back to Brandonvale. If you tell Frank anything, I will make sure he dies, Rachel. I promise you that. What you're going to do is tell him that you're marrying me. You end the relationship, babe. _Now_."

Rachel couldn't respond due to the gag in her mouth. How had she lived so long with a man without knowing what he _really_ was? She was horrified. And she knew with everything in her heart that they had Lily. Where? She didn't know, but somehow they had to rescue her. Neither of them spoke while they drove along to the community hospital in Brandonvale. She was trying to think of a way to signal someone that she was in trouble. Jack would simply pick up on it and kill Frank as he promised. The thought of Frank dying made her want to die. There was no way she would allow them to kill Frank.

Just before they reached the hospital, Mary stopped the car. Jack took off his seat belt and leaned over his seat. "Behave, Rachel. Donovan's life depends on it. I'm taking off your gag and your bonds. Do you promise to behave?" Rachel said nothing. Jack laughed, got out of the car, and went to the backseat with her. "Okay, Rachel, just remember what stakes you're facing if you don't behave."

The moment he removed her gag, she spat in his face. He shook his head in disgust and wiped the spit off his face with this shirt. "You bitch. If you weren't pregnant, I'd take your head." He slammed the car door behind him. "Take us on, Holly."

They drove another short distance when she saw the community hospital ahead. Jack was sitting right next to her, so it might be hard to scream for help, but she had to do something. As soon as the car stopped, Rachel reached for the door handle. But what she didn't notice is that the back door had a child lock on it. And there was no way for her to escape.

Jack grasped her hand tightly. "Don't do that again, babe."

The three of them got out of the car and walked slowly toward the entrance. Jack was holding Rachel in a way that looked like he was supporting her. When they entered the lobby, Jack walked Rachel up to the front desk.

"She's my fiancé," Jack said breathlessly. "We were in an accident and she's pregnant. We want to make sure our little one is okay."

The receptionist behind the desk called for assistance, and within minutes, Rachel was placed into a wheelchair and carted away, with Jack on her heels. The nurses held him back, he fought all the way. This was her chance. This was her chance to tell them what was really going on. That Jack Ashcroft and Mary Gold were TSK.

Once they had her in the triage room, she opened her mouth immediately to the first person she saw. "Can I have you call someone for me?" She asked. "And please don't tell anyone I asked."

The nurse, who was very young and friendly, smiled reassuringly down at her. "What can I do for you, hun?"

Rachel saw a pad of paper on the bedside table. She grabbed it and a stub of pencil lying nearby. She scribbled heavily and handed it to her. "Call this number, his name is Frank Donovan. Tell him to get here as soon as possible."

She winked at Rachel. "No problem, hun."

When the nurse left the triage room, Jack Ashcroft was right on her. "Can I go in and see her yet? She's pregnant and needs my support."

The nurse, who was naïve, looked at the man with great sympathy. He appeared to be really concerned about his fiancé. "Yes, hun, in a minute." She handed the slip of paper to him. "She asked that I get a message to a friend of hers. Since you came with her, I'm sure you can take care of it."

Ashcroft took the slip of paper with a genuine smile of gratitude. He looked at what was written on it and his internal rage, his killing rage, hit him hard. He smiled down at the nurse. "Thanks, babe."

When the nurse was out of sight, Ashcroft trotted out to the waiting room up front. Mary sat demurely in one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs thumbing through a magazine that might have been thirty years old. When she saw him approaching, she threw down the magazine and rushed up to him.

"Why aren't you with her?" She hissed.

"The bitch wrote a note for Frank Donovan. I'm lucky the dumb nurse trusted me with it. I need you to do something."

After he told her what she was to do for him, she left immediately and went in search of Heath Hurtz. He was their third, their helper. He would do anything they wanted him to, because they supplied his drugs and ensured that he never failed a drug test.

Ashcroft went back down the hall to the triage room. It was thankfully empty. He saw that Rachel had a poker face. She was good, but not that good. She watched with contempt as he grabbed a chair and dragged it over to her bedside. He sat down, noticing that they had put an IV in her arm. They intended to keep her, but that was a bad idea. They wouldn't, he would make up an excuse. He leaned toward her, watching as she eyed him with hatred, and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it hard, making her wince.

"Don't scream," he warned in a hushed voice. "I was given the note you wanted Frank Donovan to read." Her eyes grew large with disappointment, then they began to well with tears. "Do something like that again, and I won't hesitate to send an order to have him murdered, Rachel. I know people. I know _bad _people who would love to kill him. So, do it again, and I won't be so easy going about it. I'm staying here to watch you, if someone tells me to leave, you tell them I'm not going anywhere until I know my baby is okay."

Rachel said nothing. She was at complete utter despair. She had no other way to contact Frank. The thought of him being murdered sent shock waves throughout her body. Tears spilled out of her eyes now. She didn't bother to wipe them away. He still held onto her hand, but his grip loosened. She wanted to kill him herself. There were weapons in this room to kill him in ten different ways. What hit her more than anything was the continued thoughts that she had lived with this man and had no idea he was a killer. They had made a baby together, she was carrying the baby of a man who was clearly evil.

The hospital's ER department sent in their on call OBGYN. When she saw the couple together, she smiled. It warmed her heart to see them together. How in love they must be! "Hello, Ms. Sloane. My name is Leigh Anne Weiss. My nurse will soon bring in an ultrasound monitor so we can check out your baby." She glanced at Jack. "Do you want your husband in with you?"

Rachel looked up at the doctor, trying to convey alert with her eyes. It wasn't working. Of course, she thought Rachel was upset about the baby. She was, but she was more upset about the killer holding her hand. "He's not my husband," she said defiantly. "He's-"

Ashcroft interrupted her. "Baby, don't be crass because you're worried. I'm her fiancé, Jack Ashcroft."

She smiled reassuringly at him, conveying in her eyes that she understood pregnant mothers well. When their fetus was in trouble, most women became bitches. It was no big deal. "Nice to meet you, both." She approached Rachel and began prodding her abdomen. "Are you in any pain? Do you have cramping? Other symptoms?"

Rachel, in her panicked state of mind didn't know exactly what to say or do. She didn't notice anything strange going on other than the fact that she was sitting with an insane killer. She crazily wanted to ask why doctors always throw out multiple questions before a person could answer. "No. To all of it."

Dr. Weiss nodded. "Excellent."

They were interrupted by a nurse dragging in a portable ultrasound device. Rachel watched as they began to set it up to check her baby. If she was with anyone else [Frank], she would be happy, anxious to see her baby, but she wasn't. She simply wanted to scream until she couldn't that this man was a killer. He had abducted her. She felt the insane urge to jerk the IV line out of her vein and lunge for the scissors hanging off a lariat around the nurse's neck.

"Okay," Dr. Weiss said. "Here we go."

They pushed up Rachel's hospital gown past her abdomen. She felt horribly exposed. How many times had Jack seen her naked? How many times had she made love with the man? She felt sick. She heard the doctor mention that the gel they were about to put on her abdomen would feel cold, but she barely responded. She had gone off into her own zone. They smeared the gel on the wand and pressed down onto her lower abdomen. Although the gel _was _cold, she didn't react. She was in shock, it was as simple as that.

Ashcroft squeezed her hand. "Look at that," he said wonderingly. "Is that our little squirrel?"

Dr. Weiss smiled. "It surely is. It looks fine." She found the fetal heartbeat, it was strong and hearty.

That was when Rachel finally took a look. She could see her tiny fetus nestled so snugly in her uterus. She heard the heartbeat. It was real to her then. More real than it had been since she knew she was pregnant. She did cry then, she couldn't help it. She loved the baby already. Its father was another story. She only wished Frank had given her this child, not some maniac killer who murdered her friend and countless other women.

The nurse, expecting leaking eyes, handed Rachel a small box of tissue. She quickly took one and wiped her eyes. She wished a thousand times she had never gotten involved with Jack Ashcroft. Now, she was carrying his child. It also seemed that after the baby was born, her purpose would be served, and she would be killed. His trophy was her child. She shook her head, wiped her eyes, and felt another thought kicking in. Fuck that. There was no way Jack would have her baby. She would do whatever it took to get away from them.

When the ultrasound was over, the nurse wiped off the gel on Rachel's abdomen and pulled down her hospital gown. Without comment, she rolled the ultrasound machine back down the hall.

"Could we get the sex of the baby?" Ashcroft asked. He wanted a son, one he could have the relationship he had always desired as a boy.

"Not this early, Mr. Ashcroft," she said. "As for your other injuries, the ER doctor will take care of those. As far as I'm concerned, you're fine. You should be out of here in a few hours."

Rachel wanted to be admitted, not released. If admitted, Jack couldn't sit in here all day and watch her. Dear God. What did they have in store for her? She then thought about Lily. What if they had Lily? Her heart pounded hard in her chest. When would this madness end?

"I'll send in Dr. Hershel to treat your other injuries."

As soon as the doctor left them alone, Rachel yanked her hand out of his. She took another tissue and covered her face. She bawled then, gut wrenching sobs. If she didn't lie as Jack wanted her to, he would kill Frank. She didn't want to face him, tell him a lie, or leave him. This was it for her. She hadn't ever wanted to leave him again. She loved him, more than she had ever loved him before. When her tears subsided, Jack was still beside her, watching her carefully.

"Did you see that baby?" He asked wonderingly. "I know it's a boy. We want to name him Bronson."

She glared at him, hating him more second by second. "You won't get away with this," she said sharply.

He laughed. "I won't? I have so far, haven't I?"

"I hate you," she spat. "I hate you, you motherfucker."

* * *

Lily was tied to a chair in the shed. She had managed to work the gag out of her mouth. The smell in here was overwhelming. Although they hadn't gagged her very well, they sure as shit had tied her up pretty damned good. The bonds were so tight, they were cutting off her circulation. Her hands were numb and her upper arms had started to ache. Lily was a problem solver, so she was certain that if she managed to knock herself over, she could then break out of her bonds. She began rocking her body back and forth, making each move more violent than the next. When she hit the floor minutes later, she tasted old cellar dirt in her mouth. She held back the urge to vomit. She had to get out of here, she had to warn the others.

After taking a minute to recover, she began wiggling her arms and attempting to kick her legs forward. This move might weaken the bonds enough where she could either free her legs or hands. She was making good progress until she heard a key snapping open the lock. She cursed out loud, not caring who it was. She didn't expect to be rescued until she saw who unlocked the door. It was Heath Hurtz. Oh God. Thank God.

She smiled. "Heath, I think I'm in love with you!"

He offered a retort she didn't expect. "Shut up, bitch," he growled right before he hit her cheek with the butt of his gun.

After that, the world went black once again for Lily Wells.

When Hurtz secured Lily once again, he locked up the shed, hopped into his SUV and drove back to town. He knew Donovan and Lockwood were at the pageant headquarters guarding the contestants. He parked the SUV as close to the pageant building as he could. He casually strolled up to the building, went inside, and searched for Donovan.

Donovan turned when Hurtz entered the room. "Frank, Lily and Rachel are together checking up on some leads. They will be delayed for a while."

He nodded his understanding, but something about the story did not ring true. Neither Lily nor Rachel told him that they were going anywhere. For now, he would accept Hurtz' story. "Thanks, Heath. We need them all to get back here. Where is Jack?"

"Back at the hotel, gathering his shit to do the interviews," he said. "Jack will be here shortly."

Before Donovan could speak to the man, he walked away to complete his assigned job of security detail. When he was sure he was alone, he took two hits of cocaine and stood still until it hit him. As soon as he felt the rush, he was ready to work. He knew Ashcroft wanted Nancy Beth and Belle. He went in search of them. They stood together, giggling and gossiping as teenaged girls often do. He approached them both. They looked up at him at the same time. He was one of the press guys. Both girls thought he was pretty hot.

"My colleague and I want to do photo shoots of each girl. I've gotten most of them done," Hurtz said, "but you two are the last. Care to accompany me?"

Of course they would. He smiled at them and led them out to his SUV. They climbed into the car with him without thinking twice. The folly of youth was to be their downfall.

* * *

Rachel was dismissed from the hospital after two hours. They treated her nose [which wasn't broken] and the abrasion on her face. They didn't question how that injury occurred, they simply figured it was from the accident. She had a few bumps and bruises, but otherwise was perfectly healthy. A hospital orderly pushed Rachel out to Mary's car. They bundled her carefully in the back with Jack right behind her.

As soon as the orderly was back in the hospital and they were on their way to pageant headquarters, Ashcroft turned to look at her. "When we get back, you're going to speak to Donovan alone. I will make you wear a wire so I can hear everything you say. One word out of line, one movement out of line, and I put a bullet in his brain. Do you understand?"

Rachel glared at him. "I'm not a fucking moron, Jack. How do you suppose you're going to tie up all your loose ends?"

Ashcroft laughed. "Simple. Holly and I have friends." He winked at Mary. "Don't we babe?"

She laughed right along with him. "We surely do, Jack."

Mary dropped them off about half a mile from the pageant building on the fairgrounds. She was going back to the car rental place in the neighboring town to secure another for Jack. Thank God they always got the extra insurance when renting vehicles. No one knew when it was needed. Today, it definitely was.

Before Mary dropped them off, Ashcroft taped a discreet wire onto her chest. It was what they often called a 'trip wire.' It was something they only used in small operations. Normally if used in serious confrontations, it would always be 'tripped up.' Therefore, the poor wire wearer would usually die. They used more sophisticated equipment now. For this mission, the wire was good enough. Ashcroft held onto Rachel's hand tightly, dragging her along behind him to the pageant quarters. It was rough going, because Rachel refused to keep step with him. He didn't care, he would drag her if that's what she wanted. Apparently, it was. They finally entered the building. Donovan was in the thick of his work. There were dozens of girls with him, signing up, filling out applications, and marking down what talent they had.

"Go up to him, Rachel. Do it," he demanded, giving her a push for good measure.

She turned around, looked at him, and literally gnashed her teeth at him. "Before this is through, I promise I will kill you."

He smiled. "I love you, baby."

Donovan looked up when he saw Rachel approaching. She looked like hell and had a large bandage covering her face. He immediately forgot the pageant girls and went to her. He caressed the back of her head with one hand while gently stroking her cheek with the index finger of the other.

"Rachel, what happened?" He asked. Concern tinged his voice.

She wanted to cry, tell him the truth, but she knew if she did, Jack would surely kill him. "I lost control of the SUV and wrecked. I'm not hurt, the baby is fine, but I must tell you something."

He watched her carefully. She was signaling to him by tucking her hair behind one ear. It was a code they used when she came to help him years ago. It meant she was lying to him on purpose, on cue. "That's wonderful," he said carefully.

She cocked her head to one side. Another signal. This meant she was in trouble. "We're over, Frank. I'm having Jack's baby, and we're getting married."

Donovan used his own signal. He brought his index finger up to his lips for a brief moment. It meant he understood what she was trying to communicate. "I see," he said dejected. "How could you do this to me, Rachel? I thought you loved me."

She nodded and cocked her head to the side again. "I thought I loved you, but I didn't. I love Jack, I've always loved him, and now we're having a baby. It's over, Frank. For good."

He clenched his teeth, conveying anger that didn't actually exist. "If that is what you want."

She wiped tears out of her eyes. Although he understood what she was communicating, it still hurt to say the words. "I'll pack my things later and join Jack at the hotel."

Before she cracked, she turned away and walked over to where Ashcroft stood waiting for her. He took hold of her arm and walked away with her.

"You did a super job back there," he said with a smile.

"Fuck you," she sneered.

Ashcroft walked her back to Mary's car and they got inside. "We need to move our targets to another location. There is too much heat. I have Heath transporting the women to the room," he said.

"Targets," Rachel said with surprise. "What do you mean targets? What does Heath have to do with this?"

He smiled at her and caressed her hair. She jerked away from him. A long time ago, she loved it when he did it. Today, it was filthy, disgusting. "Heath is on our side. See, he has a bad cocaine habit, but if the agency pisses him, he comes up dirty. Holly here fixes that for him. We give him coke, he works for us. By targets I mean Lily, Nancy Beth Gooch, and Belle Steele."

The information was too much for Rachel's brain to comprehend. She had gone mad with it. Although she couldn't open the door, she had access to the window. She grabbed the handle and cranked it down as fast she could. Ashcroft was on her, but she was quick herself. Once the window was completely down, Rachel hurled her body forward, screaming at the top of her lungs. Passersby heard her, but they thought she was just an excited fair customer. They screamed back at her, the good ol' rebel yell. Ashcroft managed to grasp her on each side of her waist. He yanked her back in the car, slapped her injured cheek, and rolled up the window. Before she knew what was happening, Ashcroft retrieved his cuffs off his belt and slapped them on her wrists.

"Try that again, bitch, and I'll have my trained dog shoot Donovan. Hell, I may have him do it anyway," he growled.

"If you touch Frank, Jack, I'll induce an abortion." She didn't mean it, she wanted this baby, and would protect it. He was obsessed with it, so she knew it was her only bargaining chip.

That seemed to take the anger out of him. Even Mary gasped aloud in the front seat. She couldn't do that to their baby! "Lincoln," she gasped, "she can't do that."

"I'm a professional, Rachel. I fucking _smell_ bluffs."

She jerked away from Ashcroft and spat in his face. "Try me, motherfucker. Just try me!"

He wiped her spit off his face. He grabbed her again. "Stop fucking spitting on me, Rachel. As long as you behave, your precious Frank will live. As for you, when you give me my baby, I'm going to finish you…nice and slow. Count on it."

Mary drove them to what looked like a vacated plantation mansion. It was old and in ill repair. Again, it was something that should have been in Louisiana, not Florida. Rachel had never seen anything like it. The property was overgrown, unkempt, and spooky. It looked like a haunted house.

"This is the plantation my grandfather once owned," Ashcroft explained. "When he died, he willed it to me. I was going to live here. Remember Holly?" She nodded with a smile. Continuing, he said, "But my folks wouldn't let me have it. I was too young to live in such a grand house. So, I burned theirs down, thinking we would move in here. I didn't figure my parents would die in the fire." He scratched his head. "They deserved to die anyway, but when I got put in the loony bin, the house went to ruins. A pity. It was beautiful."

Mary got out of the car first, then Jack, and finally Rachel. He had cuffed her at the front so he could hold onto her and drag her in. He pulled her along into the house. Despite its obvious decay, there was electricity. There were lights on in the main room, which had probably once served as a living room. There were sleeping bags rolled up in the corner of the room. Upstairs, Rachel could hear muffled screams and occasionally a harsh male voice yelled at whomever was screaming. Ashcroft dragged Rachel to the staircase. It was one of those fancy jobs, with a set of stairs on each side. He began climbing the stairs on the left side. She stumbled along behind him. There were three bedrooms up here. As she was dragged past them, she could see inside. Her heart dropped. One room held Nancy Beth Gooch and Belle Steele. From what she could see, they were being raped by Heath Hurtz. In another room, Lily Wells was tied to a bed post, unconscious from the looks of it. They planned to put her in the last one.

A surge of energy entered her body. She jerked her cuffed hands out of his, bent slightly, and thrust up quickly, getting a good shot to Ashcroft's balls. She began pounding down the stairs, but Mary was on her heels. If she wasn't carrying a baby, Mary would have kicked her square on the back and she would have taken a life ending tumble.

Ashcroft groaned sickly and held onto his testicles. Oh that bitch. That dirty bitch. He couldn't concentrate on anything because of the pain. He heard Mary going after her, though. If Heath wasn't otherwise occupied, he would scream for him to help. Right now, Ashcroft couldn't scream. The pain was too intense.

Rachel was at the door, inches away from freedom, when Mary finally caught up to her. She tripped her, and Rachel took another fall. She twisted her body in such a way that she landed on her ass this time.

"HEATH," Mary bawled. "GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"

Hurtz did as he was told. He ran out of the bedroom, halfway dressed, and headed straight for the two women. Mary couldn't lift Rachel, but Hurtz had no problem. He picked her up and threw her body over his shoulder. He carried her back inside. By that time, Ashcroft was recovering from the hickory nut crunch that Rachel had dealt him.

"What can I do to her?" Hurtz asked with a smile. "I always thought she was a hot piece of ass."

Ashcroft watched, fascinated, as Rachel continued to kick and struggle. Hurtz definitely had strength. "You do nothing, man. She's pregnant with my baby. Take her to the house and put her in the room with Lily."

Rachel didn't fight, she was exhausted. At least they would put her with Lily. She needed to find out if Lily was okay. Hurtz dropped her indifferently onto the bed. The motion didn't rouse Lily. Once Rachel saw her cheek, she knew why. There was a deep purple bruise covering half her face. Someone had pistol whipped her. When the door slammed shut and locked behind her, she maneuvered her body in such a way where she could partially lean upward.

"Lily," Rachel whispered. "Lily? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" She groaned out an answer that Rachel didn't understand. She obviously couldn't speak. Her cheekbone was probably fractured or even shattered. "Don't speak," she said. "It's Rachel. I'm here with you. Someone will help us. Frank will help us."

In the room with Nancy Beth Gooch and Belle Steele, Ashcroft gazed at the girls. Hurtz had raped them repeatedly, but that didn't matter to him. He saw that they had somehow managed to embrace each other despite their bonds. It touched him in a way that was wholeheartedly sick. Both were naked, bloody, and catatonic. That was okay as well. It would make his work easier. Nancy Beth had the eyes he wanted. Belle, on the other hand, had beautiful hands. He turned to Mary and nodded. She knew what he wanted. It was time for them to die. After that, their tokens would be taken to the shed, then they could leave here so Rachel could have their baby.

"What do we do with Lily?" Hurtz asked.

Ashcroft sighed, weighing the options. "You like her? You can fuck her," he said. "But if you touch Rachel, I'll kill you. Got me?"

Hurtz took out a little brown vial and dumped some white power onto his thumb. He sniffed deeply. "I got you. I'll play with her. Do I need to take her in with the numb twins?"

Ashcroft shrugged. "I don't care. Do her in the same room with Rachel, just don't touch her."

"No sweat, Lincoln. Now, what do we do about Donovan?"

"We have specific plans. Tell him that Rachel has been abducted right from the midway. He will go there, guns blaring, if you get my drift. You're a crack shot, no pun intended," he said, smiling at his own joke. "So as soon as you find a good target, shoot to kill."

Hurtz smiled. "I'm gonna love this."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

A muttering noise roused Rachel. She hadn't realized she was sleeping until she heard Lily mumbling. She came awake quickly. The room was dark, the window covered by a heavy curtain. Rachel didn't know if it was day or night. What she did know was that Lily was regaining consciousness. Rachel scooted up on the bed enough where she could lean over her again. Her eyes were half lidded and swollen. She was likely feverish and hallucinating. Awkwardly, Rachel leaned back enough where she could touch Lily's face. It was very hot. When Rachel's touch made Lily wince, she was immediately sorry. Rachel wiggled and pushed until she could sit up. She wanted to give up, she wanted to cry, she wanted Jack to put a bullet in her head. But she wouldn't allow any of those things to happen. Too much was at stake. She had given Donovan enough physical signals where he knew she was bluffing, but not enough to know where they had been taken. Poor Lily. Those poor girls. What the hell.

"Rachel," Lily said dreamily, her teeth clinched tightly.

She looked over at the other woman. Had the bastard broken her jaw? "Don't talk, Lily, okay? I think someone may have broken your jaw. We're not alone, either. It's Jack, his crazy wife, and Heath Hurtz. They're all in it together. Those two girls, Nancy Beth and Belle, they're also here. I'm going to try to get us help. Frank knows that something is awry, he just doesn't know where we are."

Rachel found herself close to tears. She wouldn't do it. She just wouldn't. She couldn't lose it when these women were counting on her. Struggling to keep from jarring Lily too much on the bed, Rachel moved off it slowly, steadying herself as much as possible. It was easier to move around since they cuffed her up front, but her hands were going to be completely useless. She slowly crept around the room, trying hard not to trip over anything that was on the floor. She was lucky on that point. There was nothing in here but a four poster bed. That was it. She stood still and looked around the room, getting her bearings. All it took to see effectively in the dark was to allow the eyes to adjust. Back in her CIA days, she had been good at that. So had Donovan. He had actually been the one to train her how to control her vision.

She crept toward the side of the room. Using her shoulder, she followed along the side of the wall until she felt a door. She kept moving past the door, searching for another opening. After a while, she found there was only another small door. It had to be a closet. Awkwardly, she managed to grip the door knob and tug open the door. She was right. It was a small closet, empty except for a light bulb, with a long cord attached to it. She moved into the tiny space and lifted her hands up to grab the cord that controlled the switch. Ah. Blessed light. She got a better view of the room. There were light switches all around the room, but there were no other light bulbs in the outlets. Why have a dark room with a lighted closet? It made no sense to her.

With the dim light, she was able to see how serious Lily's injuries were. She at least had a broken jaw. She hobbled over to the bed to assess her a little closer. That was when the door came open. A tall man entered carrying a flash light. It was Heath Hurtz. He leered at Rachel and moved toward the bed. He took Lily by her legs and splayed them apart. He came down on top of her and began ripping at her clothing. The fucking nut job intended to rape Lily right in front of her? Oh hell no. Bound hands or not, Rachel put her old CIA training in motion. She catapulted her body forward, landing directly on top of him. He tried to throw her off. If someone had been watching, it would have looked like Rachel was riding a bucking bronco. When Heath lifted his head enough, that's when she moved. She got her cuffed wrists around his throat and squeezed with as much strength as she could muster.

It was an impossible feat, but she was doing it. She was doing it because the bastard wasn't going to hurt Lily any more. The more he struggled, the harder she squeezed. After a seeming eternity, his movements began to slow down before they quit altogether. She wasn't a fool. He could have always been faking. When she moved off his body, he wasn't doing anything, not moving or breathing. Still, she needed to find a weapon to end him for good. Her eyes caught sight of a knife in his belt holster. She grabbed it quickly, flicked out the blade, and stabbed him in the neck with a primal howl that would have scared the wits out of the most hardened criminals.

Rachel helped Lily move away from Heath Hurtz' body. When that task was complete, she went searching again in Heath's belt holster for a handcuff key. She found one. Working clumsily, fumbling it a few times, she finally released her bonds. Now that she had full control of all her limbs, she began tearing the room apart, looking for a cell phone, for anything. When she didn't find what she was looking for, she stole Heath's flash light and yanked the knife from his neck. She shined the light down on the doorknob. Why hadn't she noticed this? There was a skeleton key sticking right in the lock. She hadn't even felt it. She turned it, heard the lock hitting home, and opened the door.

The hallway was dimly lit. She didn't think Jack or Mary were here. If they had been, she would have already been attacked. She made her way slowly down the hall until she found the room where Nancy Beth and Belle were being held. She took the skeleton key and inserted it into the lock. It came open easily. The girls screamed when they saw the flash light.

Rachel immediately went up to them and shushed them. They clung to her as if she were their favorite rock singer. Both girls were a mess. Heath had raped and beaten them brutally. "You don't have to worry about him anymore," she reassured the girls. "Now, I need you both to be brave. There's another woman down the hall who is really hurt. Can you help me carry her out of here?"

Belle said nothing. She was catatonic. But Nancy Beth nodded. "Yes ma'am, I can. I can do anything as long as it means I get out of here."

She brushed the girl's hair out of her face. "We're getting out. I promise."

* * *

Donovan saw Lockwood and Ashcroft acting their roles, but there was no sign of Rachel, Lily, or Hurtz. Where the hell were they? He didn't want to lose his cool just yet, because as far as he knew, Ashcroft didn't think anyone had suspected him of anything. He watched as Ashcroft moved through the crowd with his camera, snapping pictures, flirting with the girls. Lockwood moved along the crowd as well, noting that two girls were missing. He nodded toward Donovan and held up two fingers. He knew exactly what the other man meant. _Fuck_. Right under his nose. Right under his fucking nose!

He slowly moved through the crowd and approached Lockwood. "Which two? _Our_ two?"

Lockwood nodded. "Not what you wanted to hear, either. However, I was turned on to some information just now."

Donovan and Lockwood walked away from the crowd, out of Jack Ashcroft's view. "Your friend Cody came through," Lockwood said.

He had called Cody earlier after Rachel left with Ashcroft, knowing he was the hacker extraordinaire. He gave him Ashcroft's name, his possible birth place, and apparently he came through for him again. Amazingly so. "What did he find?"

"Jack's from some podunk Florida town called Long Bush. His family had a big estate out there. Years ago, half the property burned. The only thing left is a shed and half the house. He was also willed an old plantation mansion way out in the swamps."

"God bless you, Cody," Donovan mumbled. "We need to find Hurtz and get out there as fast as we can. Both Rachel and Lily are missing."

"That's the thing, Donovan. I haven't been able to rouse Hurtz all day, either. If you ask me, he's with them," Lockwood said, dreading passing along that particular piece of information.

"We need to get moving," Donovan growled. "I want you to put Jack in a pair of bracelets, throw him in the back of your SUV. I'll be along later."

It was time to play dirty. It was time to play Jack Ashcroft's game. Donovan stood back as Lockwood approached Ashcroft, said something to him, and then slapped cuffs on his wrists. Ashcroft was actually laughing about it, as if it were all a joke. Oh. Donovan would make him sorry. Yes he would.

Ashcroft sat in the back of the SUV laughing at Lockwood. "What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? Why am I cuffed? Is this some type of sick joke? When we get back to Miami, I know an agent who is going to be taking some rich psych vacation," he said.

Lockwood smiled at him, his teeth white and gleaming against his dark shadow of a beard. "It's not a joke from how I understand it."

Just then, the back door came open and Donovan slid inside the SUV beside Ashcroft. The other man didn't flinch. He gazed at Donovan the same way he was looking at Lockwood. He thought both men had finally cracked. Perhaps they had. Donovan looked at Lockwood. "Start driving until we're out of town."

Lockwood did as he was told. Donovan was in rare form tonight. Cody warned him that something like this would happen. When Donovan was in a zone, he didn't care what he said or did. He drove for about twenty miles, until all around them there was nothing but gravel roads, bushes, and tall trees. They could smell the marshy air. It wasn't pleasant, but that was okay. Things like this never were pleasant.

"What have you done with Lily, Hurtz, and Rachel?" Donovan asked calmly.

Ashcroft blinked up at Donovan. This fuck had lost his damned mind. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told you that Lily and Rachel were following a lead. Hurtz probably went back to catch a few hours of sleep. How am I supposed to know? I'm not the attendance taker."

With one swift move, Donovan took his side arm out of its holster. He chambered a round. He pointed the gun at Ashcroft. "I'll ask again, Jack. Where are they?"

Ashcroft laughed. "What? If I don't say anything, you're going to shoot me? Kill me? Go ahead. How can I give you information if I'm dead?"

"You can't," Donovan said calmly. "But you can with a wounded leg."

He looked at Donovan as if he had lost his mind. "What?"

Before a moment passed, Donovan fired his weapon. The bullet lodged in an area on Ashcroft's thigh that would cause great pain, but wouldn't bleed him out. He screamed in pain, cursed at both men, and knew he could not do much about his situation. He gritted his teeth, moaned against the pain. He had never been shot ever in his tenure with the agency. And who would it be to shoot him? Frank Fucking Donovan.

"Let's try this again, shall we," Donovan said. "Where are they? There is no sense in acting innocent or as if you know something we don't. We know you're one half of the TSK team. Who is the other half?"

Ashcroft was in immense pain, but he found it in him to laugh out loud. "What do you want to know first guys? Do you want to know where the women are or who my accomplice is?"

Donovan hated playing games with suspects. He absolutely hated it. These moves, of course, were full CIA. However, Lockwood had agreed to play along. He hated dirty agents. They made him physically sick. He didn't want to take it to the next level, but he would if pressed. Two young girls and two young women important to him were in peril. He saw that Ashcroft's leg was bleeding, but not that much. However, it would begin gushing in a moment. Donovan reached over the other man, balled his hand into a fist and smashed it down onto Ashcroft's injury. He banged his head against the back of the seat, screamed in pain, but found it in him to smile. This was one sick fuck they were dealing with.

"Fuck you," Ashcroft growled.

"Wrong answer," Donovan said calmly and hit the other man's thigh again.

Ashcroft's screams were deafening in the SUV, Lockwood wondered if anyone could hear him out here in the boonies. He hoped not. There were lives at stake and if it took beating the shit out of the scumbag to get what they needed, go for it. This, after all, was special ops FBI, not the police.

Donovan held the gun up toward Ashcroft's temple. "What if I were to find your woman. You do have a woman, don't you, Jack? It's not Rachel. We both know that. What if we found her, persuaded her a bit, as we are persuading you. We could do that, we could drive out and find her."

Although this was a blatant bluff, it was usually a good tactic. Most men loved their women and would do anything for them. If this fuck was capable of love, he would protect his woman. They had a good idea who she was, but they didn't know where she was.

"You won't touch her," he sneered. "She would never be found by douche bags like you."

Donovan nodded politely, then dug his fingers into the gaping wound in Ashcroft's jeans. He pushed through damaged tissue, nerves, whatever he could manipulate. This move not only made Ashcroft cringe, but also made Lockwood uncomfortable. Ashcroft gritted his teeth together. The string of curse words that left his mouth would make the raunchiest of people blush. Donovan didn't care, he continued to grind his fingers into the wound, not caring about the blood on his hands. When he finally withdrew, he wiped Ashcroft's blood indifferently on his own shirt.

"What next, Jack?" Donovan asked. "Do I shoot your other leg? All you need to do is answer a question. Where are the women? Where are the girls?"

"I'm not talking. Torture away, fucker," he said sweetly.

Donovan returned his sweet smile, then did an upshot move with the heel of his hand. It connected with Ashcroft's nose, breaking it, lowering him down into a pleasant unconsciousness. He glanced at Lockwood who had been watching all this unfold with an interesting facial expression. "We go to the property. Maybe they're hidden away there. If we haven't found them by the time he wakes up, I'm taking out his other leg. Let's go."

* * *

Unbelievably, the women found a wheelchair on the bottom floor of the plantation. It was old, but still in good shape. Lily had no use of her legs and needed assistance to escape. Rachel feared that she was injured far worse than she thought. The three of them helped pile Lily into the chair. They slowly made their way out of the mansion. It was pitch black. The only light came from the flash light Rachel stole from Heath. As soon as they got outside, she turned it off in case Mary was around somewhere. There were no cars around, so she was pretty sure Mary wasn't in the vicinity. The bad thing about it was that they were completely lost.

Belle was still in a state of shock, she continued pushing Lily along in the wheelchair, but only because she was told to do so. She could only follow simple directions. However, Nancy Beth seemed more aware of herself and her surroundings.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Rachel asked.

She stood still for a moment and looked around. When the weird guy brought them out here, he had turned left onto the road they were now walking on. "I think we need to go right. I remember a left turn when we came in."

"Good, good girl," Rachel said, encouraging her. "Maybe if we get to a paved road, we can find some help."

They were going along nicely, on a straight trajectory toward civilization. Rachel even thought she saw some lights from houses in the distance. Maybe they were getting somewhere. Their hopes were dashed when they saw a set of headlights heading their way. This had to be Mary. And it was. When she saw them outside, trying to escape, she was pissed. She used her car as a weapon, aiming madly at the group of women. Rachel tried to stop her, but Belle ran right in front of the car, waving her arms for help. She didn't realize it was the woman responsible for getting them in such a mess. The car plowed into the young girl mercilessly. Nancy Beth screamed and jumped into a nearby drainage ditch. Rachel was left with Lily in the wheelchair. She couldn't bare to look at Belle's crumpled body.

"Go, Rachel, run," Lily managed to say painfully, dully.

"No, Lily, I won't leave you," she stated harshly.

"Let her hit me," she demanded. "Hit the ditch with the kid. Do it _now_!"

By then, Mary was making another turn, another round to get Rachel and Lily. When Rachel refused to move, Lily kicked her with all the strength she could muster. It was enough to knock her down. Mary's car hit Lily's wheelchair broadside, knocking it flat. Rachel tried to run for Lily, to get her out of the way, but Mary pounced, rolling over Lily as if she were road kill. Rachel would never forget the sound of Lily's breaking bones, the way her head exploded like a melon. It was a gruesome image, a gruesome way to die.

Instead of jumping in the ditch with Nancy Beth, Rachel stood right in front of the car, letting Mary see that she had a huge target. Oh, but Mary didn't want to hit Rachel. Rachel was going to give her and Lincoln their baby. She slammed on the brakes just inches from Rachel's thighs.

Mary, injured herself from her own antics, limped out of the car. She had no weapon. Hers was the car. It was ruined. "Now come on back, honey. We've gotta take care of our baby."

Rachel stood still. She would let Mary believe she was cooperating. What Mary didn't know was that Rachel had Heath's knife hidden at her side. As soon as she drew close, she would make her pay for killing Lily and Belle.

Mary moved closer and closer still. She held out her hand and Rachel took it without an argument. As soon as Rachel had a good grip on Mary's hand, she yanked her forward forcefully, quickly plunging the knife into Mary's neck before the woman had time to figure out what happened. She lay on the dirt road, cawing and gawping through the blood. Rachel would never admit the joy she felt at watching this woman die. She had murdered so many people, people Rachel loved, people Rachel had started to love. Rachel yanked the knife out of Mary's neck and ran toward the ditch where Nancy Beth had jumped. The girl was still there, completely exposed. If there were alligators out here, she would make them a meal.

Rachel held out her hand. "Come on, hun. We're safe. She's gone."

She helped the girl out of the ditch. The bodies of her friend and Lily were relatively close and easy to see. Rachel tried to shield her as best as she could. No one needed to witness the carnage. There should have been none. She did not know what was going on with Frank or Jack. She hoped Frank was somewhere safe.

"Maybe we can find a house up ahead with a phone," Rachel said gently, steering the curious girl away from the bodies. "We need to call the police." Yes, call the police, but mostly she needed to speak to Frank.

* * *

Donovan and Lockwood pulled into the driveway of the ruined house. Nearby was a shed, which looked like it had work recently done on it. Both Lockwood and Donovan approached the shed with guns drawn. Donovan motioned for Lockwood to flank the right of the shed while he took the left. Without another thought, Donovan kicked in the door. It broke easily. The first thing they noticed was the smell. It was death, and it permeated the entire shed, quickly coming out in the night air. Donovan went back to the SUV, checked Ashcroft, and then brought back two masks.

The men entered the shed, noticing that it was neatly arranged with lock boxes of various shapes and sizes. All of them had locks. Most were regular dime store jobs, so they knew they could look inside any of them if they wished. Before Donovan gave the order, Lockwood brought out his tool kit from his belt and found a screw driver to pry open the boxes. The first they found was the one Lily saw. Lockwood pried it open and immediately looked away.

"It's tissue, Donovan, probably from Nona Pope," he said sickly.

"Don't touch anything else, I'm calling in a crime scene team and the FBI from Miami. It will take them hours to get here." Then something caught his eye. It was a necklace. He leaned down to look at it. It belonged to Lily. He remembered seeing her wearing it on more than one occasion. "Dear God, Jess, Lily was here."

"Should we beat it out of him some more?" Lockwood asked, ready to take up the task.

He shook his head. "No. We stay together until the police get her to seal this off. Once that happens, I need to find the plantation. That's the only place they can be."

It didn't take long for the local police to arrive. Once Donovan was certain they could take care of the scene until Miami arrived, he and Lockwood took off to find the plantation. They drove for seeming hours trying to find it. Ashcroft was no help. He was still unconscious from the blow to his nose. There was blood all over the bastard. It made Donovan feel good to make the guy hurt. He deserved it. Donovan stopped at a local convenience store for directions. While there, he grabbed three large bottles of water.

Before they took off again, Donovan sat in the back with Ashcroft. Mercilessly, he poured the water all over Ashcroft's face, trying to rouse him. He groaned in pain, gagging on the water, spitting it out. Donovan continued until he begged him to stop.

"What do you want now?" Ashcroft moaned, whining like an insolent baby.

"Tell me where your grandfather's plantation is," Donovan demanded, more than ready to dig his fingers into the man's thigh wound.

"I don't remember," he said stubbornly.

Without mercy, Donovan took his Glock and pounded the wound on Ashcroft's leg. The man bit down on this bottom lip to stifle the scream. "So, you want to play this game again, Jack? I think it's time for me to shoot your other leg. What do you think?" For good measure, he chambered another round.

"Stop fucking shooting me," Ashcroft half demanded, half moaned. "I don't want to hurt anymore. Mary Gold is my wife," he began. "She doctored all my evaluations to hide the fact that I was in the mental hospital when I was a kid. She altered drug tests for Heath Hurtz. He works for us as well." He rolled his red rimmed eyes over to Donovan. "We served together a long time, and you treat me like this?"

"Shut up, you son of a bitch, or I'll end your life," he said severely. "I want to find Lily, I want to find Rachel, I want to find those girls, but right now, I want to see you dead. Do you believe that?"

At this point, Lockwood had begun to feel as if Donovan was no longer bluffing. He wanted to open his mouth and protest. He hated dirty agents as much as the next guy, but this was going too far. He opened his mouth, but he saw a very discreet shake of Donovan's head. It was another bluff. A totally believable bluff.

"Okay, Frank, okay. Hurtz and Mary took them all to the plantation. We gave the girls to Hurtz. He did what he wanted with them until I was ready to take what I wanted. I think he may have taken Lily, too. I don't know. I left. Rachel is there with Lily. Rachel is having my kid, Donovan. She is having it and giving it to Mary and me."

Donovan laughed. It wasn't a normal laugh. It was trifle, evil, completely unbalanced. "Whatever happens tonight, Jack, you'll never see that child. From this point on, that child is mine. The only thing you will see is a padded room and a straight jacket. That's it. Say goodbye to your wife. You will never see her again. I will make her talk just like I made you talk." For good measure, he whacked Ashcroft's good leg. "Tell us how to find the plantation."

* * *

Rachel and Nancy Beth walked for a mile or more, but the houses they saw seemed further and further away. Nancy Beth wasn't wearing any shoes and her feet were blistered, bleeding, and useless. Halfway away from the mansion, Rachel stopped and gave Nancy Beth her shoes. They walked for a while, traded the shoes, and continued on.

"What if that other man comes back?" Nancy Beth asked. "What will we do?"

Rachel gazed down at the young girl. She had vibrant eyes much like her own. This girl could almost be her daughter. Rachel still had the gore streaked knife she used on Mary. She could use it on Jack with no problem. "Don't worry about him, honey. I'll take care of you."

At that point, Nancy Beth started crying, covering her face with her grimy hands. "I can't walk no more, Rachel. I just can't. Can't we just sit here for a minute?"

Rachel wanted to push the girl along, keep walking, but she remembered the ordeal she had suffered. She put her arm around the girl and held her. "Sure we can. For just a minute."

The two of them sat down on the dirt road. All Nancy Beth had on was her tattered skirt and a jacket that Rachel had given her. The girl was no more than seventeen and she had gone through things most women never did. She put her arm around the girl again and held her close. Nancy Beth let go with gut wrenching sobs as the night's events began to hit her. She had been raped, she saw her friend raped, then killed, and watched as Mary rolled her car over Lily, making her seem no more than a pile of rags.

"All I wanted was to be queen of that stupid pageant," Nancy Beth cried. "That's all! That's all I wanted."

"Sweetie," Rachel began. "You still have next year."

"I don't want it no more," she cried. "I want to help people now. I want to do what you do. Get the bad guys. Get the guys who hurt people like those assholes tonight. That's what I want with my life."

Rachel kissed her forehead. "It's a good goal."

Nancy Beth looked up at her with hopeful eyes. "Will you help me?"

She smiled. "Of course I can."

They sat together, two survivors, with their arms thrown around each other for comfort. They sat so long, they did not notice a set of headlights heading toward them. It was Nancy Beth who noticed first. She jerked away from Rachel and immediately rolled down into another ditch. Rachel sprang to her feet, her hand grasping the hasp of the knife. When the car drew nearer, she immediately broke her stance. Oh God. Thank God.

As Donovan and Lockwood drew closer to the mansion, they saw two figures huddled on the dirt road. When they approached, they saw a body fly into a ditch, then another stand to attention. It was then that Donovan recognized Rachel. His thoughts were the same as hers. Oh God. Thank God.

Barely giving the SUV time to stop, Donovan was out of the vehicle and over to Rachel. She then gave up her stance as a protector. She literally jumped into Donovan's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Screeching tears left her. They were of sadness and happiness. When Nancy Beth heard this, she climbed out of the ditch and realized she was saved. As soon as the embrace broke, Donovan, Rachel, and Nancy Beth turned toward the SUV. The killer was there. The killer was a man they would all grow to hate, to fear for the rest of their lives.

"Where is Lily?" Donovan asked.

Rachel looked away from him for a moment, glanced at Nancy Beth, and then focused her eyes on Donovan's face. "She's dead, Frank," she whispered. "Jack's crazy wife ran her over like a woodchuck. She saved me, Frank. She saved my life."

He took her into his embrace again. He was as upset about Lily as Rachel was. None of them wanted to see an agent die, but when a good one, one they both knew, passed, it wasn't easy to reconcile.

"His wife?" Donovan asked, his voice falling in her ear.

Rachel pulled away to look at him again. "I took care of her, I also took care of Hurtz. He was with them, he attacked those poor girls. Mary also killed Belle Steele. Her body is with Lily's."

He nodded, immediately feeling loss strike at his heart. If things had gone differently, he would have been with Lily. She didn't deserve to die like that. "When we get sufficient back up this way, we'll take you and Nancy Beth to the ER."

"I want to be with you when you take Jack back to Miami," she said.

He shook his head almost violently. "No. I don't want you near him. He's dangerous, but I can handle him. You stay here, you stay with Chief Shempert. I'll come back for you."

"Yes, you do that," she whispered. "I love you so very much, Wilson."

He held her again, kissing the top of her head, loving her warmth, her scent, her body, the simple fact that she was alive. "Me too, Iris."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

After Donovan left with Lockwood and Ashcroft back to Miami, Rachel took herself and Nancy Beth to the ER. The physicians wanted to check her out as well, but she didn't want them looking at her until she knew Nancy Beth was all right. Nancy Beth told her how to reach her frantic parents, and they assured her they would get to the hospital in due time.

Rachel sat in the waiting room, wishing she was calm enough to read a magazine or something. The TV was on, but all the news was about the capture of the TSK killer. Rachel surely didn't want to pay attention to that. She picked up a magazine, it was about twenty years old, but she thumbed through it anyway. She wanted to wait for Nancy Beth's parents to arrive. She had no idea what they looked like, but considering that the ER was deserted, they wouldn't be hard to identify. After looking at the magazine for about twenty minutes, she dropped it. What was up with Nancy Beth anyway? No one would tell her anything, because she wasn't a relative.

It was then that she noticed two people entering through the sliding doors of the hospital. They looked about the right age to be Nancy Beth's parents. They didn't notice Rachel. Instead, they went up to the reception desk and asked about their daughter. When they didn't get any useful information that way, the man went off to find help. Rachel watched the woman go over to one of the hard plastic seats and sit down. Figuring this had to be the elder Gooch's, Rachel approached her.

She sat next to her. "I'm sorry for invading your space," she said. "I'm Rachel Sloane. I came in with your daughter." She noticed that Nancy Beth's eyes came from her mother. "Your daughter is in pretty bad shape, but she'll pull through. She is a very brave girl."

The woman took hold of Rachel's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you so much for being there with her. I'm Grace Gooch. I know she had to be terrified. Sweetie, you look pretty torn up yourself. Have _you_ seen a doctor?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet, I wanted to make sure Nancy Beth is all right."

Just then Rachel saw a tall man coming from down the hall. He was Nancy Beth's father. His daughter inherited his hair. He glanced at the young woman sitting beside his wife with great curiosity. "Grace, Nancy Beth is in Room 1099."

She nodded. "Bryan, this is Rachel Sloane. She brought Nancy Beth in," she said.

He shook her hand. "Thank God for you."

Rachel shook her head. "No, Nancy Beth is the hero here. She saved me."

Grace stood and walked over to her husband. "Miss Sloane? Would you mind coming along with us? I'm sure Nancy Beth would love to see you."

Bryan Gooch nodded. "Oh, yes ma'am, please. Nancy Beth asked about you."

"I don't want to intrude," Rachel said.

"You won't be," Grace said. "Please, come along."

The three of them walked down a long corridor to the elevator that would take them to the tenth floor. They rode up in silence. Rachel had begun to feel dizzy, so she was glad there was something to hang onto in the elevator. They walked down to 1099 and could hear Nancy Beth speaking to a nurse. The three of them entered her room and when she saw Rachel, she began to cry. Without waiting a moment, Rachel approached the girl and held her until her tears began to taper off, then she pulled away and gazed up at her with her shiny sapphire eyes.

"What about you, Rachel?" She asked. "You look like you need a hospital bed, too. I wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for you."

Rachel laughed, shedding her own tears now. "No way, Nancy Beth. You were the brave one."

"Don't you need a doctor?" She asked. "Didn't that crazy guy say you were having a baby?"

"Don't worry about me, Nancy Beth, I'm fine." She kissed the girl's forehead. "I'll check back on you after you visit with your parents for a while."

Rachel kissed her forehead again and started for the hallway. She never made it. She passed out right before she left Nancy Beth's room.

* * *

It was past midnight before Donovan and Lockwood made it back to Miami with a rambling Jack Ashcroft. The two men left him in the custody of marshals from the federal prison, who would hold him there until he was ready to go to trial. Donovan didn't have time to dawdle. He had heard nothing from Rachel, and he was worried sick. He told Lockwood to stay there to answer to Director Buchanan, because he wanted to go back to Brandonvale. Unless he was lucky, he knew that even if he floored it, he wouldn't reach the town until dawn.

When Donovan arrived in Brandonvale, there were already media outlets from as far as away as Tennessee descending on the town. He almost didn't find a parking space at the hospital. It was a community hospital like that of Springville, so it didn't have that many parking spaces to begin with. He ran toward the entrance, his heart racing, his mind coming up with all kinds of scenarios he could think of regarding Rachel's health. As soon as he made it to the reception desk, he was told she was on the tenth floor in Room 1098. He had no idea it was next door to Nancy Beth.

He ran toward the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Floor after floor passed him by, his mind making up the most horrible things happening to her. Over and over, he felt that she was worse than she looked, that she was dying, or that she had had a miscarriage. Tons of things. When he passed by room 1097, his pace slowed. He didn't know if he was ready to see her yet. Was he calm enough? Would he only make a bad situation worse? Whatever the case, he moved on. The room door was open. He entered and saw Rachel in a hospital bed. There was a young girl in a wheelchair at her bedside. He immediately recognized Nancy Beth Gooch.

Nancy Beth looked up at Donovan. "I'll be leaving the two of you alone now," she said with a smile, that of a girl who knows what grown up couples do.

He smiled back at her as she left, then he made a dash toward her bedside. The effect was almost comic. She might have laughed, but he didn't know her status, so she would not do that to him. He dragged a chair over, sat down, and took her hand.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Have you even slept, Frank? How did you get back so fast? You should have waited," she said.

He leaned over her and kissed her hard, deeply, feeling the instant need to taste her, to touch her in the only way he could right now. She responded readily enough, one arm coming up so her hand could cup the back of his head. She couldn't help it. The horror of the night had begun to hit her, to overwhelm her. She cried. The harder she cried, the tighter he held her, his lips drinking in her salty tears. When her tears dried up, he placed one small kiss on her lips and pulled away.

"Forget me," he said. "I want to know. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, quickly wiping fresh tears out of her eyes. "No, everything is fine. Even the baby. As much as I put my body through tonight, even the baby is strong."

"You're her mother, that's why," he said softly.

"If it is a girl," she said quietly. She began to cry again. "Lily's gone, Frank," she whispered harshly. "She saved me. She saved my life. I can never thank her for that."

"I know," he said gently. "But she would probably tell you to stop blubbering over her. She was that kind of lady. A good one. Wherever she is, she knows you're thanking her."

She nodded, noticing that her tears were getting harder and harder. "What about Jack? What happened to him? Is he secure?"

"Yes," Donovan said. "I left Lockwood in charge of him. He went with the federal authorities to assure that he is locked up until trial. In Florida, he is bound to receive the death penalty."

"He deserves it," she said sharply, harshly. "Can you hold me now, Frank? Can you hold me for a long time? It's over, but it still hurts."

They clung together like people do when they're shipwrecked. They were survivors of a terrible crime, a rein of terror. It had finally ended.

* * *

Months later, Donovan and Rachel found themselves at the residence of Maude and Dale Shempert again. The elder couple were away on vacation and allowed them to stay in the room where their love was not only renewed but strengthened. They sat on the deck, a table and a pitcher of iced tea between them. Rachel was hugely pregnant, due any day. She made a joke about putting her glass of tea on her stomach. It sat there perfectly, in wonderful symmetry. Amused, Donovan grabbed the glass before the baby could kick it right off. He was right so many months ago. Rachel was having a girl.

They sat in lounge chairs, watching three teenagers playing basketball out in the yard. Two of them were, of course, Donovan's sons. Megan had finally sent them out to see their father. It was a big time in Donovan's life. He and Rachel had married two weeks ago. No one asked about the baby she was carrying, they simply figured it was Donovan's. Neither told them anything different. The other teenager playing with the boys was Nancy Beth Gooch. Since Donovan and Rachel had gotten married here, she had hung around them as much as possible, even calling Rachel her 'aunt.' It was fine with Rachel. In fact, she was going to make Nancy Beth her child's godmother. It might sound crazy, but Nancy Beth was eighteen now, bound for college. After college, she was joining the FBI.

There were some unpleasant things as well. Jack Ashcroft was convicted for all the deaths he was responsible for. As Donovan predicted, he was sentenced to die. He sent Rachel letters almost every week talking about their child, wanting to see their baby, and so on. That is, until Donovan put a stop to it. Something peculiar had happened to Jack Ashcroft. He somehow lost the use of his hands. No one else would write letters for him, either. He hadn't told Rachel how it happened or why Ashcroft could no longer write, but that was okay. There were only so many things a wife wanted to be told.

"I think Nancy Beth is falling in love with Adam," Rachel said with a smile.

Donovan laughed. "Don't say that, I was thinking the same thing. They're too young to run off and get married. College first."

She laughed as well, but her eyes were haunted. Something was bothering her. She caressed her abdomen gently, every now and again she could feel her daughter moving inside her. "Frank, do you think she'll be like Jack?"

"No way," he said with certainty. "She will have two loving parents who will spoil her rotten. She'll have a great godmother, two loving brothers, and scores of other relatives. Don't worry, Rachel, Jack's type of problem isn't hereditary. Just remember one thing. She isn't his daughter, she's _ours_."

"There was something else I was thinking," she said.

"Yeah?"

"I thought that since Lily saved my life, I would like to name her Lily. What do think about that?"

She was gazing at him, waiting for his approval. Already, they were thinking in terms of Donovan being the father. That was all right with him. He had considered himself the baby's father the moment he found out Rachel was pregnant. "I think it's perfect. She would have loved it, Rachel."

She smiled again, noticing that her eyes were leaking. "I think so, too." She looked out at the kids having themselves a grand old time. "Lily Belle Donovan it is."

He took her hand in his and held it tightly. They sat outside listening to the sounds of summer, birds chirping, frogs singing for rain, and the laughter of children playing.

_Finis_


End file.
